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Pipeline geopolitics
India needs to get it right
by Zorawar Daulet Singh
India spends over $400 million each day on oil imports, which account for 70 per cent of its oil consumption. For a country facing such high import dependence in its growth trajectory, one would expect securing reliable and long-term supplies would be at the forefront of our development and foreign policy agenda. And yet, Delhi seems to be expending diplomatic and political resources in a direction that would baffle even the most optimistic of observers. Last week, the Union Cabinet affirmed India’s participation in the Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan-India (TAPI) 1,700-kilometre pipeline, which envisages a flow of gas from Central Asia into the Indian heartland.While in a December 2010 inter-governmental agreement, Afghanistan and Pakistan have committed to the security of the pipeline, the transit zone involved in the TAPI case is now widely aknowledged as the most tumultuous region in the world. In Afghanistan, though the Kabul regime has received extensive international aid and military support, it is by no means assured that state capacity will acquire a threshold that can ensure the uninterrupted flow of a strategic resource like natural gas across 735-kilometres of southern and western Afghanistan, ironically, the hotbed of Pashtun resistance. In Pakistan, the problem is magnified because state capacity is both weak and has been compromised by an ideology that is repulsed by the idea of interdependence with India. Further, the most vital institution – the Army – that would underwrite the security of the 800-kilometre transit route is nurtured by a strategic culture that strives to acquire new leverages vis-à-vis India. To place India’s energy security in the hands of an institution that has rarely been bound by international agreements would be strategically irresponsible. So, why is this project being pursued? Perhaps, it serves to underscore India’s hope for a seamless flow of resources across the greater South Asia region. It might also be good public diplomacy as India exudes the right notes for a region condemned to irresolvable territorial conflicts. Indeed, the US State Department spokesperson summed up US interest in this project: “You’ve got new transit routes, you’ve got people-to-people links, you’ve got increased trade across a region that historically has not been well-linked, where there have been historic antipathies which are now being broken down by this positive investment project.” Few can dismiss such grandiose rhetoric. But to assert that the TAPI pipeline “is a perfect example of energy diversification” as the US official did, is going too far. What it actually reflects is America’s dual strategy to break the Russian monopsony on Central Asian gas and prevent the flow of Iranian gas eastward. The pursuit of energy security is a serious endeavour and cannot be driven by or become hostage to ideological or optimistic projections of international politics. Surely, there are other more benign means to test the prospects of Central-South Asian camaraderie? A two-way flow of less strategic merchandise and people could be a start. If energy security is a national concern, Delhi should be pursuing a geostrategy that is based on a more sensible comparative assessment of the potential lines of communication to the energy-starved Indian heartland. The severing of India’s natural lines of communication to the resource wealth of Central and West Asia was one of the great tragedies of Partition. In many ways, India’s post-1947 foreign policy has struggled to overcome the geopolitical consequences of Partition after which India became a prisoner of geography unable to forge continental geoeconomic or geopolitical links with its western periphery and beyond. Fortunately, peninsular India has historically always provided options to craft maritime lines of communication between India and the world. Indeed, over 90 per cent of India’s trade and all of its oil imports rely on maritime transportation networks. Thus, it is only logical for India to explore maritime energy routes. In 2009, the Gas Authority of India (GAIL) entered into a Principles of Cooperation agreement with the South Asia Gas Enterprises (SAGE) to explore the technical viability of laying a deep-sea pipeline from West Asia across the Arabian Sea to India. According to SAGE, the cost of a pipeline from Oman to India, a project first studied in 1995, would be $4 billion (TAPI is estimated to cost $8-10 billion). The gas tariff would also be lower since transit or security costs become negligible. Oman’s access to the Arabian Sea makes it a natural export hub for gas-rich states like Qatar, Turkmenistan and Iran. A direct coastal pipeline from Iran to India is not only technically challenging, given the depth and turbulence of the Indus Canyon, but would also require Pakistan’s acquiescence since it would traverse near the latter’s exclusive economic zone. In March 2011, the Union Petroleum Minister stated in the Rajya Sabha that “so far technical feasibility of the (Oman-India) project has not been established” and “not much progress has been made since” mid-2009. Has India’s inability to de-hyphenate its Tehran ties from its US-policy reduced the attractiveness of this project? Russia’s strategy of systematically investing in routes that bypass politically volatile or unfriendly transit states can serve as a lesson for India. In 2005, Moscow and Berlin came together to collaborate on a project that sought to overcome the financial and geopolitical costs of transiting large volumes of natural gas through Central and Eastern Europe. Until recently, 70 per cent of Russian gas was transiting through Ukraine and Poland. The 1200-kilometre Nord Stream sub-sea pipeline network, which became operational in 2011, has directly connected Eurasia’s largest energy supplier to the economic heart of Europe through the Baltic Sea. India’s proximity to energy-rich West Asia is a geopolitical advantage that most nations can only aspire for. Lines of communication, however, do not just arise spontaneously but are always the outcome of sustained political, economic and even military commitment to specific routes that are deemed stable and relatively inexpensive to sustain. This is the essence of geostrategy. Moreover, advancement in offshore technologies and high hydrocarbon prices has made deepwater pipelines a viable proposition. Finally, the growing capabilities of the Indian Navy will only complement a political initiative to pursue a sub-sea link between West Asia and India’s west coast. It would be absurd if public diplomacy that is apparently guiding Delhi’s calculus on TAPI deflects attention from the more urgent need for a secure maritime energy line of communication to India’s economy. A subsea pipeline deserves more than a perfunctory
assessment. The writer is a Research Fellow at the Centre for Policy Alternatives, New Delhi.
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Visiting the lost dreamland
by N.S. Tasneem
There is an oft-quoted proverb – “As old as the hills”. But in Shimla, whenever I go there, the hills are as young as ever. This time again, my visit to Shimla, though unplanned, was rejuvenating for my old self. On a Friday evening, my son drove me to Rashtrapati Nivas, Shimla, where the Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS) in situated. I had come there after more than a decade. I had bidden it adieu at the expiry of my term as a Fellow and had left that place the same day in the afternoon. Of course, the memory of my stay there had been ensconced in my heart.Now again I was there for a short while. My eyes, first of all, were settled on the imposing structure, surrounded by tall trees. The evergreen lawns tempt the feet for a stroll but, like the forbidden fruit, it is forbidden to succumb to such a temptation. So, I reached the lobby of the IIAS where the security staff tried hard to recognise me. On my request I was led to the library where I used to take refuge whenever I felt too much obsessed with my research work. To my pleasant surprise, the library had undergone a sea change in many ways. Now there was more space for the Fellow to cosy up with a book on the cushioned sofas. They could, if they so desired, steal a glance at the undulating branches of the trees outside, while flitting through the pages of the book. At this new scenario I could suppress with difficulty my desire to be there again as a Fellow even in my eighties. The next day I got a chance to visit Shimla View Cottage where I had stayed from 1955 to 1956, after my marriage. In the evening I could go, at times with my wife, for a long walk so as to complete the Chakkar (round) of the hill. At night we could have a view of Shimla, from our bedroom, where the lights appeared to be scattered like glow-worms in the wilderness. Else those were like the stars shining bright like diamonds in the sky. My stay at Obroi Cecil, at the behest of my medico son, provided me with many spells of the flight of my imagination. I recalled my stay at this hill station for 10 years, when I trudged my way on foot from Summer Hill or Chakkar or Sanjauli to Gorton Castle where I had been employed as an auditor. In Shimla, I had become conscious, for the first time in my life, of the change of seasons in a marked manner. It was not merely summer or winter as well as the rainy season or autumn. I could see trees devoid of leaves totally in winter and then those were clad, as if overnight, in lush green attire at the dawn of spring. Likewise, during the rains, the clouds played hide and seek that was both exhilarating and annoying. The winter season was punctuated either by the hail fall or snowfall or snow storm. The last day of my three-day visit to Shimla was a special day for me. It was the birthday of my son who was born at Snowdon Hospital, Shimla (Now Indira Gandhi Medical College and Hospital). Now we were together again on that date at that place after 51 years. In-between we had visited this hill station a number of times, separately or together, but never on the specific date. So for me that occasion was like a dream come true. Indeed, we had at noon a round of The Mall. It being a Sunday, most of the shops were closed. Still a leisurely walk on The Mall was a memorable experience. At The Ridge we could view the Jakhu Hill having a cluster of trees at the top that surrounded the Mandir. Christ Church reminded me of Christ Church College for the girls of the privileged families. In the early 1950’s, the annual fetes of the college drew hordes of admiring youngsters for trying their luck at the games of skill. The library near the church was, in those days, a sort of haven for readers as well as scholars. The Reading Room was generally packed to capacity, while researchers were huddled together in the adjoining drawing room, having a revolving round-table in the centre. From the window of that room, one could have a look at the people roaming about on The Ridge. At the horizon one could see a series of hills, clad in the shifting hues. In the big void, between The Ridge and the surrounding hills, a day-dreamer could get lost in wishful thinking. In such a blissful mood, while looking out of the window, one could exclaim with Robert Browning: God’s in his heaven
All’s right with the world!
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The usual challenges of turning a work of art into another medium have acquired a new dimension with the making of Salman Rushdie’s popular novel ‘Midnight’s Children’
into a film. The focus has once again shifted to politicisation of art
Lost love letters to India
“Most of what matters in our lives takes place in
our absence” —‘Midnight’s Children’
Vandana Shukla
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THE VEILED TRUTH: Soha Ali Khan plays the role of Jamila i.e Saleem Sinai’s sister who becomes the Bulbul of Pakistan
Pictures courtesy- Hamilton-Mehta Films Ltd
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Sometimes written words of a fictional work become prophetic for real life situations. The Best of Booker, ‘Midnight’s Children’, written by India born author Salman Rushdie who termed it as his ‘love letter to India’, is turned into the ‘biggest project of her lifetime’ by film director Deepa Mehta. Even before the film hit the production floor, it was sold to forty countries. Such confidence shown by film distributors across the globe is reserved only for a few names from Hollywood, which has now been accorded to the team of Mehta and Rushdie. The much-awaited film is ready for release on 26th October, across the globe in 30 countries, except in India, where the writer and the film director belong. The fantastic tale of Saleem Sinai and his alter- ego Shiva, born on the night of August 15, 1947, the night of India’s freedom, spans six decades across different locations of the Indian sub-continent— from Mumbai, Karachi to the Sunderbans in the novel. Rushdie defies whatever Aristotle’s ‘Poetics’ professed about the three unities in this work — he goes beyond the monologic versions of a novel to offer a carnival like space, where time, place and action stage a fluid dance. Everything – characters, locations and action run crisscross under the spell of his magical realism. Why would a film director, known for handling realistic issues in her films attempt to bring such a book on celluloid?
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Kulbhushan Kharbanda plays Picture Singh
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A cinematic book Mehta opted for the book for precisely these very reasons. In an e-mail interview she says, “Not only because Midnight’s Children is a beloved, classic novel about post-colonial India ( and that’s pressure enough, not to short change it, that is), but also because of its sheer cinematic scope, its epic nature, its different periods, its cast of more than three hundred speaking parts and 17 principle actors,” which has made it the biggest project of her life. It all began when Rushdie came for the screening of ‘Water’ ( the last of Mehta’s elemental trilogy after ‘Earth’ and ‘Fire’) at Toronto(Where Mehta lives) and appreciated her work. “I relate to his sensitivity, and he said let’s work together,” she said. Three years later when he was again in Toronto, he asked, which of his works would she like to work on? “Midnight’s Children speaks to me the most,” she said and the rest is history. David Hamilton agreed to produce this film too, like the rest of her films.
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Vinay Pathak has a friendly appearance in the
film
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When a book is interpreted in the language of celluloid, it almost always throws up interesting questions, whether the medium shapes a story or the story shapes a medium. Did the challenge deter Mehta? “We (Salman Rushdie and myself) had decided that our approach to the book would be cinematic. Mr Rushdie's screenplay reflects this, the story line, compressed time periods are all handled beautifully by him. And I am happy with the way it’s shaped up,” says Mehta. Both Rushdie and Mehta would prepare a script, separately, to begin with, and they claim, it often matched. From the original 6oo pages of the novel, Rushdie prepared the first draft of 276 pages, which was further brought down to 120. Many chapters and characters had to be collapsed for the script. Despite these cuts, the film has 67 different locations, for which shooting was concluded in short of three months. In a talk delivered at Redcliffe Institute, Harvard University, on ‘Taking Midnight’s Children from book to film’ Mehta said, “We share a healthy respect for each others’ craft” which is why they did not have a single show down during the making of the film, which was like running a marathon within the span of a sprint event. The shooting was kept under wraps of secrecy, and the crew and cast were made to sign confidentiality agreement. Despite these precautions, Iranian government came to know of the shooting and tried to put pressure on the government of Sri Lanka to stop the shooting. For a few days their licence to shoot remained cancelled, which was later revived. Within three months the shooting was completed in Sri Lanka where Bombay of the 40s to the 70s and other locations were re-created. For a few important landmark locations of India and Pakistan, shots were taken under great secrecy.
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Rahul Bose plays General Zulfikar of Pakistan with
him is his wife Emerald, played by Anita Majumdar
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The politics of art Rushdie was also involved in choosing the cast, that includes Seema Biswas, Rahul Bose, Shahana Goswami, Soha Ali Khan, Kulbhushan Kharbanda, Shabana Azmi, Anupam Kher and others. The lead role of Saleem Sinai, whose perspective on an India- in- transition constitutes the plot, is played by a newcomer Satya Bhabha. The film is in English, Hindi and Urdu and will be released under the title of ‘Winds of Change’, in all probability. Apart from the script one has heard and read so much about, which is the strongest point of the film? “ Without the strong, indeed stunning production design by Dilip Mehta and his team, to capture 60 years of India's post colonial history and 67 locations, the film would have been impossible,” says Mehta, to add, “Film is a collaborative art form, everyone involved with it contributed to its realization.” While Rushdie called his book a ‘love letter to India’, Mehta, in her talk delivered at Redcliffe Institute said,” How much I love and care for my country with all its complexity, the complexity I was looking for ‘Midnight’s Children’ gave me.” Ironically, it tells the story of the country where not a single distributor is willing to take the film. The making of this film, which undertook many risks in its production leaves many unasked questions unanswered, because we are living in ‘sensitive’ times. Noted poet Ashok Vajpayee had raised a pertinent question during ‘Jaipur Literature Festival.’ He said, “Writers are not dictators, nor do they carry weapons, why is the world so scared of them?” We may not get answer to this question, what we do know is, in this age of heightened ‘sensitivity’ love letters can be delivered elsewhere, but not to the addressee.
Narrator of the partition saga
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A
formidable team: Salman Rushdie, the author of Midnight’s Children with Deepa Mehta, who evokes the visual magic of the novel on celluloid
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Before ‘Midnight’s Children’, Deepa Mehta had brought one more novel on celluloid—Bapsi Sidhwa’s ‘Ice- Candy Man.’ Born in Amritsar, Mehta moved to Delhi for higher education and later migrated to Canada, where she began her creative journey. She started her film career by making documentaries and children’s films. Her debut feature film was ‘Sam and Me’. The script of her first film of the elemental trilogy ‘Fire’ (1996) was written on the kitchen table of her home. The film received critical acclaim for handling the subject of lesbian love (between sisters- in- law)-- thus far untouched by the Indian film makers. This was followed by ‘Earth’(1998), a film based on Bapsi Shdhwa’s ‘Ice- Candy Man’. The novel was based on an eight year old Parsi girl’s perspective on the partition of India. For the making of ‘Earth’ too she had ensured a creative involvement of Sidhwa. Incidentally, ‘Midnight’s Children’ too deals with the partition of India. Mehta’s parents had come from Lahore, and she grew up listening to tales of the partition. The last of the trilogy ‘Water’ was released in 2005, the film was shot in Sri Lanka. She has also directed several English-language films set in Canada, including ‘The Republic of Love’ (2003) and ‘Heaven on Earth’ (2008), the latter deals with domestic violence. She has been honoured with many awards, including Governor General’s Performing Arts Award for Life Time Achievement in Canada.
We never had a single fight I have known and admired Deepa Mehta's work from a distance for many years, but in the last three years I have had the good fortune to collaborate closely with her on the film of my novel Midnight's Children, so now I know everything about her, except one thing: I don't know what she's like when she loses her temper, because - and this will amaze anyone who has ever had anything to do with making a movie - in three years of close, impassioned collaboration we never had a single fight. This is a great improvement on most of the close relationships of my life…
— Salman Rushdie
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