E D I T O R I A L   P A G E

EDITORIALS

SAD is happy
WHEN two kids fight, they wipe the slate clean and become friends again. When two politicians decide to bury the hatchet of past differences, they continue to nurse their respective grudges.

Message to Moscow
OF late, a big question mark has been put on the quality of arms and armament purchased from Russia. On the one hand, the MiG crashes are causing a scare, and on the other, defence personnel are wary of the battle-worthiness of many pieces of equipment.

Shifting sands in Iraq
THE killing of a large number of persons by US troops in Iraq after launching “Operation Peninsula Strike” on Thursday shows that the situation in the war-ravaged country is getting worse. There is no conclusive proof that those dead were foreign nationals involved in terrorism.

All in the name of Almighty
The caste divide at Talhan
A.J. Philip
AS I sipped hot tea served in a bone china cup in Mr Gobindlal Jassi’s impressive house at Talhan, I remembered the coffee I had at a Dalit’s hut at Babubigha in Bihar. It was the first time in his life that he had prepared coffee. To make it tastier, he put a liberal pinch of ginger and served it in an earthen mug.

MIDDLE

With amorous intent
Raj Chatterjee
“Trust in God”, says an old Arab proverb, “but tie up your camel”. It was some such thinking, no doubt, that led the 13th century Crusaders to invent the chastity belt. I am always reminded of it when we receive a card from two of our dearest friends, an old colleague and his wife, who live in Dorset, England.

Made in Malerkotla, sold in Oxford
Jangveer Singh
BADGES everywhere. In shops, homes and workshops. Weaving badges in ‘’zari” which involves making intricate patterns using a metal thread coated in gold paint is a way of life for a large number of Muslims in Malerkotla, the only Muslim town of Punjab. They have been through changing economic patterns after Partition.

Love and liberty
Amrit Dhillon
THE earth under the film studios in hot and humid Mumbai, where nearly 800 movies are made every year, is moving. A new crop of movies released in recent months are unprecedented in their explicitness. The posters alone are shocking for Indians.

EDITORIALS

SAD is happy

WHEN two kids fight, they wipe the slate clean and become friends again. When two politicians decide to bury the hatchet of past differences, they continue to nurse their respective grudges. The exchange of laddoos is meant to mask the bitterness, not banish it from their new-found politically expedient respect for each other. Both Mr Parkash Singh Badal and Mr Gurcharan Singh Tohra have been in politics long enough to understand the importance of creating politically expedient differences and the illusion of unity as and when necessary. Unity is the flavour of the season and hence the sharing of laddoos. The two leaders can be expected to avoid the pitfall of taking each other’s offer of friendship at face value. Akali unity is a concept that defies description. If the exchange of laddoos means the end of the faction war between Mr Tohra and Mr Badal, the halwai deserves a reward for inventing the recipe for lasting political unity — that too among the constantly quarrelling factions of the Akalis. The joke about the oldest regional party of the country is that if there are two Akalis, they end up making three factions with the peace-maker being forced to head one of them! In any case, the two veteran politicians of Punjab represent only their factions of the badly splintered SAD that is said to have united for fighting the Congress — the common “enemy” of the Panth and Punjab.

In times of political war these splinters cause pain more than injury to the larger cause of political unity. That “pain” is usually enough for the Congress to keep coming back into power, for “healing the wounds” as it were. The Congress is the proverbial bad penny that becomes acceptable currency after every spell of Akali misrule. The unity of two Akali factions is not going to set the rivers, that remain in Punjab, on fire. It is incapable of striking even a spark of hope. It is barely skin deep. All it means is that Mr Badal will now have one more voice, and a powerful one at that, — it used to be heard across the state not too long ago — when the police come knocking at his door with a warrant of arrest. In real terms the Tohra-Badal unity is a mirage that will mislead none. There are already rumblings of protests from both sides about the “loyalists” not being taken into confidence. The Akalis, even otherwise, have a record of coming together in moments of adversity for saving their personal turfs and not for the larger cause of Panthic unity or the economic growth of Punjab. These factions fall apart when the dominant one, usually headed by Mr Badal, comes into power.

Message to Moscow

OF late, a big question mark has been put on the quality of arms and armament purchased from Russia. On the one hand, the MiG crashes are causing a scare, and on the other, defence personnel are wary of the battle-worthiness of many pieces of equipment. In fact, a vocal section even goes to the extent of saying that there is an attempt to palm off virtual junk. There was a time when many of these purchases were made on political considerations. Not any longer. Now the forces are asserting that they must get only the best. In an admirable show of resolve, the Indian Navy has asked Russia to rectify all faults in the Krivak class warships with stealth technology before they are delivered. India is to purchase three warships, two of which are ready. There is recurring trouble in the test flights of their main weapons system — the surface-to-air Shitil missiles. Of the 12 test-flights conducted in the presence of Indian experts, only seven were said to be successful. Russia wants that the faults can be removed after these have been delivered. But for once, India has put its foot down. It has refused to take delivery till these are in perfect working order, and has postponed the visit of Chief of Naval Staff Admiral Madhavendra Singh to Moscow yet again. This will send the right message to the defaulting agencies.

The only problem is that because of the recurring technical snags, India is unable to induct the much-needed pieces of defence equipment in time. For instance, INS Talwar and INS Trishul should have been handed over to India more than one and a half years ago. Even now it is not certain when these will be coming. But the firmness shown at this stage will have a salutary effect in the long run. Russian manufacturers will come to realise that India is not going to make any compromise with quality. At the same time, Delhi will do well to cast its net wider. The price, the quality of the equipment and the supply of spares all have a bearing on the source of purchase. But if such factors happen to be equal, there is no need why India should put almost all its eggs in the Russian basket. In this era of fierce competition, it can strike better deals if it shops around the world liberally. Of course, the ban imposed on the transfer of certain types of equipment and technology is a big stumbling block, but there are pragmatic ways to get past it. However, the best option is a rapid and consistent effort to indigenise.

Shifting sands in Iraq

THE killing of a large number of persons by US troops in Iraq after launching “Operation Peninsula Strike” on Thursday shows that the situation in the war-ravaged country is getting worse. There is no conclusive proof that those dead were foreign nationals involved in terrorism. One report says that they were either loyalists of Saddam Hussein’s Baath Party, now banned, or those angry with America because of its behaviour in post-war Iraq. Whatever the truth, rising anti-Americanism is an undeniable reality there. This feeling was quite pronounced even when Saddam the dictator was calling the shots. Today that sentiment is getting stronger. The reason is the arrogance displayed by the US troops presiding over the chaos there. The way they conduct searches and raid houses in an effort to eliminate any threat to their presence as “occupation forces” is adding to the illwill against the Americans. For the Iraqis, it is like falling out of the frying-pan into the fire. They are unable to understand why their country was ruined by the US-UK duo. If the crime was the alleged possession of weapons of mass destruction by Saddam, these are yet to be found. The Iraqis don’t shed tears over the fate Saddam has met. But they get red with rage when they see the Americans running their beloved country.

Does this mean that Iraq will turn into a big quagmire for the Americans in the days to come? Such an assessment appears an exaggeration at this stage. But the growing resistance against the foreign “stabilising forces” strengthens the belief that the path is getting more and more slippery for them. In such a situation, is it prudent for India to send its troops to Iraq to help the Americans and the Britons to administer the troubled country? The US and the UK together have been designated as the “Authority” by the Security Council. The Indian forces will have to operate as part of this arrangement. Even if they don’t have to take orders from the generals belonging to the “Authority”, there is the possibility of the Iraqis treating the Indians as “collaborators”. This is a worrying scenario, as the Iraqis so far have known the Indians as friends. We must do everything possible to save this image of India. Pragmatism, however, tells us that we should not take any step which comes in the way of India coming closer to the super power. It is a catch-22 situation. One wayout seems to be to closely monitor the changing ground reality for a longer time before taking a final decision. The US is greatly interested in Indian forces, but it is reportedly not putting pressure on New Delhi. Then why should India be in a hurry?

OPINION

All in the name of Almighty
The caste divide at Talhan
A.J. Philip

AS I sipped hot tea served in a bone china cup in Mr Gobindlal Jassi’s impressive house at Talhan, I remembered the coffee I had at a Dalit’s hut at Babubigha in Bihar. It was the first time in his life that he had prepared coffee. To make it tastier, he put a liberal pinch of ginger and served it in an earthen mug. It was difficult to drink the concoction, but the warmth with which he served it compensated for the distaste. A village singer, he had a gripping tale to narrate - how his daughter was gangraped to teach him a lesson. But at Talhan, Mr Jassi’s tea was more interesting than his lament. As he recounted the Dalit version, my attention was riveted by his double-door fridge, which had an electronic room temperature indicator.

Mr Jassi is not a political leader, but he still cherishes those fleeting moments he stood beside Bahujan Samaj Party leader Kanshi Ram. Framed photographs depicting his closeness to the ‘messiah’ of the Dalits adorn the walls in his sprawling drawing room. He invited Mr Des Raj, a close relation and member of the Talhan panchayat, to expound the Dalit case.

At the root of the controversy is a gurdwara, known in the name of Shaheed Baba Nihal Singh, a local Sufi saint. Originally his samadh, it has today developed into a massive cluster of buildings thanks to the munificence of the Non-Resident Indians from the Doaba area. The walls and floor tiles of the gurdwara have inscriptions detailing the contributions made by them - Babu Sarnam Singh from Canada - Rs 92,000; Rana Amarjit Singh - Rs 73,000. There are many who paid in lakhs. Thanks to them, it has facilities for simultaneous recitation of Guru Granth Sahib by as many as 55 granthis in a spacious air-cooled hall. It has a well-appointed Kotha Sahib (resting room) for Guru Granth Sahib where tranquillity is disturbed only by the purr of the air-conditioners.

Nobody knows for sure the total value of the offerings the gurdwara gets, both in cash and kind. Head Granthi Giani Manjit Singh would not like to speculate. All that he is prepared to say is that the figure of Rs 5 crore that is often quoted in the Press is on the higher side. How high is, however, a question few can answer with certainty. But there is agreement that the coffers in the gurdwara have been overflowing with cash. Small wonder that anybody who is somebody in the village wants to be a member of the gurdwara management committee.

Talhan has a total population of 10,000, 72 per cent of whom are Dalits and the rest Jats. But the management of the gurdwara has traditionally been with the Jats, much to the discomfiture of the numerically preponderant Dalits. Every effort the Dalits had made to get a fair representation in the management committee evoked a stony, if not violent, response from the Jats. Filing cases and counter-cases too did not bring any tangible result. This only soured the relations between the two communities, which came to such a pass that the Jats imposed a social boycott on the Dalits, denying them work. What’s worse, they tore down the portrait of Sant Ravi Dass and refused to accept democratic principles in the running of the shrine. It was against this backdrop that violence erupted in the village and spread like wildfire. Whether the agreement that has been hammered out between the two sides will stand the test of time is a question, which is now uppermost in everybody’s mind within and without the tension-torn village.

Talhan disproves the theory that social engineering can liberate the oppressed. Nobody in the village contends that the Dalits are a deprived lot. In fact, Mr Des Raj was honest enough to admit that the Dalits were in some respects in an advantageous position than the Jats. One area they lag behind the Jats is in the ownership of land. The Dalits who own agricultural land can be counted on one’s fingers. This is because of the peculiar land alienation law, now annulled, the British had introduced in their bid to placate the landed gentry, drawn essentially from the Jats.

But by letting the Dalits join the armed forces and thereby see the world for free, the British opened up a whole new world of opportunities for them. The alien rulers also tapped their skills in tannery, allowing in the process the rise of an entrepreneurial class among them. After Independence, affirmative action by the state helped many of them get jobs in the government and public sector banks and industries. There are now as many, if not more, NRIs among the Dalits at Talhan as among the Jats. Over the years, massive concrete structures have replaced modest houses. At Talhan, the rich are ever on the lookout to flaunt their wealth.

One of them has erected an imposing concrete gate on the road that branches off from Grand Trunk Road leading to Talhan as a memorial to his father, the late P.L. Kataria. It depicts a “British Airways” aircraft, probably the one which the gentleman’s son took for his first flight out of this country. Such gaudy structures dot the whole of Talhan.

Despite all their wealth and prosperity, why do the Dalits turn the accusing finger at the Jats? Psychotherapists, such as Erich Fromm, have recognised that to keep blaming others for one’s problems constitutes a character disorder. A person or a group of people will never find true freedom unless they begin to accept responsibility for their own lives. M. Scott Peck’s international bestseller, The Road Less Travelled, argues this thesis powerfully. A necessary part of growing up into liberation is to accept the responsibility for one’s own life.

Instead, they nurse grievances against the Jats and blame them for their plight. Incidentally, there are three other gurdwaras in the village, one of which is totally controlled by the Dalits. To a pointed question why they were objecting to the Jats’ control over the management of the gurdwara, Mr Des Raj said the upper castes were getting the benefit of free electricity and water from the gurdwara. What would he have done if the management was in his hands? “I would have seen to it that our area also benefited from free electricity and water” he answered without batting an eyelid. He was not conscious of the incongruity of the Dalit position - they just want to do what the Jats do.

Nonetheless, it would be unfair to overlook the manner in which the Jats have been employing various stratagems to deny a proper role to the Dalits. They have not been averse to making compromises in the running of the gurdwara. While almost every gurdwara has only one Nishan Sahib (flag post), this one has two to fulfil the desire of a woman devotee who offered one of them. Why can’t such generosity be shown to the Dalits, who are branded as smokers, alien to Sikh traditions and, therefore, unfit to be members of the management committee? The Dalits have a point when they say that being a Sehajdhari did not prevent the Sarpanch, Mr Mahinder Singh Bains, from becoming a member of the gurdwara management committee. Why then are such rules applied only in the case of the Dalits?

It is incomprehensible that such divisions are allowed to occur in a religion whose founder preached that none should be regarded high or low on the basis of his birth or caste. “Against the Brahmans and the Khatris, Guru Nanak identified himself with the lower castes and the Untouchables: ‘Be there the lowest among the low, even the lower, Nanak is with them” (The Sikhs of the Punjab by J.S. Grewal). But who bothers for such thoughts when it is a question of sharing the spoils?

MIDDLE

With amorous intent
Raj Chatterjee

“Trust in God”, says an old Arab proverb, “but tie up your camel”. It was some such thinking, no doubt, that led the 13th century Crusaders to invent the chastity belt. I am always reminded of it when we receive a card from two of our dearest friends, an old colleague and his wife, who live in Dorset, England.

My memory goes back to the second year of World War II when as a bachelor and very junior assistant, I was ordered to proceed from Cawnpore (a spelling still dear to me) to a place called Dalsingserai in the wilds of north Bihar.

At the time of which I write D’serai was what was known as a “flag station” on the Oudh-Tirhut Railway, also known as the “Old Twerps’ Rly”. This meant that unless previously arranged with the railway authorities, no mail or express train stopped there.

My company owned some plantations in the region with a “leaf” (tobacco) depot at D’Serai attached to which was a large and comfortable bungalow, once owned by His Highness of Darbhanga, with its own generator, tennis court and swimming pool. The “outposts of the Empire” men certainly knew how to make themselves comfortable!

Anyway, the Bihar earthquake a few years earlier having demolished our sales branch in Patna we had been given temporary accommodation in this oasis and the reason for my transfer was that the British manager, without an assistant owing to the exigencies of the war, was required to do a month’s training with the Auxillary Force of India. I was there to hold the fort in his absence.

I had been told by my boss at Cawnpore that the man I was going to replace had recently got married to an “absolute stunner”, Being young and normal in every respect, I looked forward with mounting excitement to being left alone in the company’s bungalow while her husband went soldiering.

Early one morning in October I alighted from the Samastipur Express at D’Serai and walked across the railway lines to the manager’s bungalow. I was greeted by an Englishman in his mid-30’s, slightly thin on top, but good-looking and well-built. He greeted me cordially though he had never shared a house with an Indian before. His wife didn’t appear till lunchtime She was a “stunner” alright and bore a strong resemblance to one of my favourite film stars, Myrna Loy.

The three of us got on extremely well, playing tennis in the afternoon and scrabble at night. The only discordant note in the set-up was a large tabby cat called Sheba, much loved by my hostess and greatly feared and disliked by me.

On the night before my host’s departure for his camp we were sitting on the verandah sipping our drinks when the husband said to me, “I say, I do hope you won’t mind looking after her while I’m away”.

“Good heavens, no!” I said trying hard to keep the eagerness out of my voice. “After all, she’s your wife”.

“Wife?” ejaculated the man, sounding greatly puzzled. “Margaret is going to stay with some friends in Muzaffarpur. I’m talking about Sheba.” My heart sank in my boots, not to speak of the embarrassment.

Made in Malerkotla, sold in Oxford
Jangveer Singh

BADGES everywhere. In shops, homes and workshops. Weaving badges in ‘’zari” which involves making intricate patterns using a metal thread coated in gold paint is a way of life for a large number of Muslims in Malerkotla, the only Muslim town of Punjab. They have been through changing economic patterns after Partition. And ultimately they became a captive labour force churning out badges and trophies for Delhi and Meerut exporters.

A view of some of the badges made in Malerkotla

The Muslims in Malerkotla continued living in the town even after Partition because the then rampaging Sikhs spared them due to the protest made by the then Nawab of Malerkotla against the cruel killing of the two sons of Guru Gobind Singh, who were bricked alive by the then Governor of Sirhind. Being allowed to live in peace, the Muslims of the region continued with their small time agricultural occupations until their skills at badge and trophy making were recognised at both the national and international levels.

This made badge and trophy making an occupation for thousands virtually earning the town the sobriquet of the badge-making capital of the world. It is here that the college colours of Oxford and Cambridge, besides those of a number of colleges in the US and as well as the armed forces of several countries are made. Harley Davidson and Ralph Lauren are the names which are well known in the town as are the colours of the US marines and various golf courses. The badge makers of the town also supply extensively to various wings of the Indian Army, besides making large “battle honours” and trophies for them.

Walking in the lanes of Malerkotla one comes across ‘’workshops” in various homes. A workshop where badges are made invariably includes a big room with ‘’addas’’ placed on benches. The artisans sit on ‘daris’ to weave intricate designs. The cloth and other raw material are invariably stocked in the drawing rooms of these houses from where it is given to the ‘karigars’. The trophy-makers work on the smelting pot to make their trophies even as the finishing touches are given in different workshops.

Though numerous people have benefited from the export boom in the town, prosperity has not touched upon the numerous workers. Sitting in the house of Mohammad Iqbal one sees a marble flooring and is even served soft drinks. Iqbal says the prosperity of his house is directly linked to the badge trade. But then there are only four or five such sub-brokers in Malerkotla who are given orders by exporters from Delhi and they engage workers to carry out the orders. The veteran badge maker says excessive competition with many sub-brokers trying their hand in the trade has reduced the profit margins. “When we are feeling the pinch, what can be said about the workers?” he adds.

The workers are virtually living in penury. Eighteen-year-old Shafiq, who works at the ‘adda’ regularly, says he had entered this profession because many of his family members were already in it and he had been learning the art of intricate embroidery since childhood. Shafiq is lucky to earn Rs 50 per day for his efforts. Sometimes he grosses even less than that. “Some of the former weavers have started putting up vegetable and fruit stalls”, he says, adding that they are able to earn double his earnings by selling vegetables.

But there still seem to be enough men, women and even children who are available for the making of badges. Lack of proper education and other avenues forces many youngsters to take up the family trade. In some cases extended families get together to make badges so that the profits can be shared in the family itself. However, in terms of getting labour, the future does not hold well for the badge makers of this town. “I would not like my children to take up this trade and am concentrating on making them entrepreneurs in their own right”, says Mohammad Naseen.

Only one youngster has been able to get out of the trap of the exporters till now. But he seems to be waging a lone battle. Tahir Rana of Rana Sons says he was helped by a bank officer of Ludhiana who encouraged him to apply for an export licence and then also helped with the formalities in the case. “As most of the youngsters have not studied beyond the plus two level they are not confident of entering the export line themselves. “I myself have only studied till matric but I had a burning desire to learn the computer programmes to look for orders and I have managed to do so”. Tahir has acquired a computer, a scanner and a printer in his office and is constantly on the Net looking for orders.

He has some work to show for his efforts. Last year he got orders worth $10,000. However, Tahir feels this is peanuts as compared to the orders Delhi exporters receive. He hopes to do better business with experience. Tahir and many others are, however, clear that direct exports are the only way out of the present crunch being faced by the badge makers. “A badge may fetch me Rs 25 in India but it will easily sell for Rs 100 in the US”, he says adding that manufacturers were hardly able to make profits more than 5 or 6 per cent after paying for the labour and material charges.

It is surprising that no one has tried to go in for exporting the badges and trophies made in the town despite the presence of a dry port at Ludhiana, which is only 45 km away. Many of the badge makers say they are their own enemies as people working in the trade are not able to form even a loose confederation or association to ensure uniform rates. Besides, the badge men feel the government has never helped them though an export corporation exists in the state. “If I could get some help from the government I am sure exporting badges direct from Malerkotla to Oxford could become a reality”, he sums up.

Love and liberty
Amrit Dhillon

THE earth under the film studios in hot and humid Mumbai, where nearly 800 movies are made every year, is moving. A new crop of movies released in recent months are unprecedented in their explicitness. The posters alone are shocking for Indians.

The films themselves reveal a new raunchiness, both in content and quantities of flesh, as they venture boldly into a virgin territory, tackling stories of women with sexual needs, frustrated young men desperate to have sex for the first time, and married couples trying to spice up their love lives. “Khwahish” (Desire), for example, is about a married woman’s sexual dissatisfaction and includes 17 kissing scenes. In “Jism”, a young woman married to an aging businessman who is never in town, embarks on a torrid affair with a young man that is about pure, unattenuated lust. And in “A Small Love Story”, a young woman deliberately arouses a peeping Tom living in a nearby apartment by letting him watch her make love with her boyfriend.

By western standards, this seems quite tame and banal, but in India it is staggeringly bold. This is a society where, the moment a kiss was imminent in a film, the camera used to cut, amid lush orchestral overtures, to scenes of bees pollinating flowers or shots of the Eiffel Tower thrusting manfully into the sky. For the climax? Thunder and flashes of lightning. Unable to show nudity or sex, and yet knowing viewers wanted some titillation, Indian film directors used to show fully dressed couples indulging in motions that simulated sexual intercourse.

The song-and-dance routines that are de rigueur in Indian cinema usually comprised little else but vigorous pelvic thrusts and heaving bosoms.

The result used to be vulgar in a way a straightforward depiction of sex could never be. Another ‘substitute’ for honest sex, much loathed by feminists, was to show graphic rape scenes designed to arouse rather than horrify men.

The arrival of ‘real’ sex is a relief to viewers who used to be repelled by the coy, prurient and simulated version. ‘The kind of crude scenes we normally see are pornographic. All they do is highlight Indian hypocrisy —people want to see sex but dare not admit it. I’m glad we’re moving on,’ said television critic Amita Malik.

Many directors believe this hypocrisy may finally be dissolving as Indian audiences mature, partly as a consequence of watching western serials and films on cable television and partly because of social changes that are transforming relations between the sexes as Indian women become more assertive and independent.

Traditional ideas used to result in some truly dire stereotyping of Indian women: saintly mothers or uncontrolled man-eaters. Even a married woman could not be shown enjoying sex with her husband lest she should appear sluttish.

The latest batch of films portray a different Indian woman who is honest about her sexual needs without being made out to be a Jezebel. Bipasha Basu, who stars in “Jism”, says she loved the role because it was so radically new: `Indians have so many misconceptions about sex. It’s time we realised sex is a normal part of life, like eating, sleeping, brushing our teeth and bathing’.

Director Deepak Tijori, whose new film “Oops” deals with male strippers, believes that audiences now want something more substantial than drippy love stories and epic family dramas: `I think they’re ready for sex to come out of the closet now.’ Feminists are delighted that the madonna-whore syndrome is dying out. Until recently, any woman in an Indian film who demonstrated sexual desire came to a bad end. The women in these latest movies are shown wanting and having sex, without being burnt at the stake. The Guardian