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Pre-poll rhetoric gets uglier and sharper
BJP defensive about its acerbic prime ministerial candidate
S. Nihal Singh
Narendra Modi goes from state to state spreading his message of development with large dollops of Congress-bashing |
The
Bharatiya Janata Party’s obvious discomfort over the Gujarat snooping controversy is less because of the act itself then for the harsh light it shines on the methods of functioning of the party's candidate for the Prime Minister’s Office and his method of functioning. That Narendra Modi should not think twice about asking his man Friday Amit Shah to get a battery of the state's anti-terrorism police force to mount a surveillance on a private citizen, a woman, allegedly at the request of an acquaintance manifests a penchant for consigning rules to the waste paper basket.The Gujarat Chief Minister is still paying a heavy price for the 2002 Gujarat anti-Muslim pogrom, but the new controversy strikes at a deeper malaise in highlighting the authoritarian trends of an administration that touts its development agenda. Judging by the defensiveness of BJP spokesmen, this is one aspect of the Modi administration they would rather not underline. Many facets of the controversy are still the subject of speculation because the two letters ostensibly written by the father of the woman in question explaining his request for his daughter's surveillance made to the Chief Minister were made public by the BJP even before the National Commission for Women received one of them. This has merely whetted public interest instead of setting the controversy at rest. For those who have studied the long spell of the Modi administration in the state, it comes as no surprise that the Chief Minister runs a tight ship. In theory, this is all to the good. But his method of governance comes at the cost of junking rules and laws that do not suit him. It also speaks of his success in dominating the opposition ranks in the state, including the Congress party that he holds total sway over how the state is run. This raises two kinds of problems when translated on to the national stage. Understandably, Mr Modi has junked his favourite theme song of Gujarati “asmita” (pride) because India is a country of many ethnic groups and religions and Gujaratis constitute only one strand. The other is that even accounting for most politicians' opportunism, Mr Modi has made a breath-taking transition. And as he goes from state to state spreading his message of development with large dollops of Congress-bashing, he varies his pitch and theme. Mr Modi, of course, has his admirers and against the backdrop of a less than coherent Congress-led administration at the Centre, he presents himself as the doer, the decisive leader to appeal to a young and increasingly impatient audience that seems ripe for a person who promises to be no respecter of rules. How far this will resonate with a wider national audience remains to be seen. In the meantime, BJP spokesmen grasped with both hands the case of an alleged sexual assault against the editor of the Tehelka periodical, Tarun Tejpal, to try to draw attention away from their own travails by castigating media for double standards in treating the two cases. Yet the two are totally dissimilar. In one instance, it is the blatant misuse of state machinery to serve personal ends; in the other, it would be a case of moral malfeasance, if proved. Obviously, Mr Tejpal's self-imposed punishment is far from adequate. An outside agency must probe his crime and adequate punishment meted out to him in accordance with the law of the land and the Supreme Court's guidelines. This is election season and complaints pile up on the desk of the Chief Election Commissioner against one party or the other and reprimands fly in the air. As one who has covered many elections over the decades, I cannot recall a campaign that has descended quite to this level of diatribes. There is plenty of blame to go around among the parties but Mr Modi must accept his contribution to making it so. Perhaps there is recognition among politicians of different stripes that the 2014 election marks something of a watershed in Indian politics. We have been through periods of turmoil and confusion before. There was the post-Emergency outpouring of anti-Congress feelings in the election that routed Indira Gandhi. Then came the Morarji Desai-led experiment of opposition elements joining together to form a new government. That experiment did not last as the opposition quarrelled and splintered and there followed a succession of prime ministers who took office at the grace of the Congress. Indira Gandhi rose from the ashes phoenix-like, but after hiccups came the first BJP-led government at the Centre under Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Alas for the BJP, it was to be only one long-term spell and it tasted the bitter fruit of defeat in the 2004 general election at the hands of the Congress. A Sonia Gandhi-inspired victory led to the Manmohan Singh coalition, which repeated its triumph five years later. Understandably, the BJP is pulling out all stops behind its experiment of naming a divisive and acerbic figure as its prime ministerial candidate in the hope that in Mr Modi it has a winner, given his record in Gujarat. The obvious failings of the Manmohan Singh dispensation, particularly brought to the fore in the United Progressive Alliance II, are music to BJP ears and it is a sign of the party's hopes that one of its spokesmen was publicly counting the days when it would come to power bringing to mind the analogy of “if wishes were horses”. The pre-election scene is far more complex and the general sense of disillusionment with the Congress is unmatched by an equal enthusiasm for the BJP. True, the party has been trying various tactics to woo those ranged against it - the bulk of Muslims and other minorities, the secularists, the liberal-minded and those wedded to the concept of democracy. There also seems to be a sense of foreboding on what would become of the rich and diverse tapestry of India were a true proponent of Hindutva come to power to paint the country with the same brush. Perhaps the rhetoric will get uglier and sharper as we approach Election Day. But it would be well to remember that independent India, like the Ganga, has a life of its own and will in the end spurn those that do it
elemental harm.
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MIDDLE |
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Quite at home in Afghanistan
Gurinder Randhawa
 It
was exactly ten years back when I landed in Kabul, having been posted as a Special Correspondent of All India Radio and Doordarshan. I had volunteered for the assignment, preferring Kabul to Hongkong for which I was chosen. For two years I was the only newsperson from the subcontinent in Kabul. Others came on short visits. Even Pakistan had no staff reporter though all Pakistan dailies were available in Kabul. They carried only agency reports. Some friends were worried about my being an easy target — because of my turban — for the elements hostile towards India. Even our intelligence chief in the Indian Embassy was apprehensive about my safety and advised me to wear a “patka” covered by a cap which I refused. To my pleasant surprise, I found the turban to be my biggest asset. It helped me establish my identity and Afghan people who have tremendous goodwill towards India welcomed me with open arms. Afghan journalists considered me as one of their own. Still I was vigilant, considering the ISI operated through the Taliban as they did in the case of the killing of a driver of the Border Roads Organisation which was building a highway from Zaranj to Delaram in western Afghanistan. Most people hailed me as "Lala" (elder brother) or Sardarji wherever I went, thanks to the TV camerapersons focusing their lenses on me during press conferences and the live coverage of important events. At security check-points I was referred to as “Khabar Nigar-e-Hindustan” and allowed an easy passage. I interviewed the biggest Uzbek warlord, General Abdur Rashid Dostum, at his headquarters, Shiberghan, in northern Afghanistan. The next morning while going round the Blue Mosque in Mazar-e-Sharif, I noticed some young boys pointing towards me. They came to me and surprised me by asking if I was a “Hindustani Khabar Nigar”. They said they saw me interviewing Dostum on the local TV. The interview was recorded by the Ayina TV owned by Dostum. On one occasion we were in the Panjshir valley on the death anniversary of the late Ahmad Shah Masoud, who was killed by the Taliban just two days before 9/11. The then Indian Ambassador, Vivek Katju, was on the dais and I was in the press box while the Indian Defence Attache, Brig A K Nair, and another diplomat were standing under the shade of a tree. Suddenly, I realised, that some people were pointing towards the two officials and talking in a hush-hush manner. Actually they were wondering whether the two were Pakistanis. I rushed to their side and the moment the crowd saw my turban, a cheer went up and they surrounded us, shook hands and offered us soft drinks. Once during the first parliamentary elections, I and another journalist got quite late in returning to Kabul after interviewing some warlords. We were stopped by security men at a check-post on the outskirts of Kabul. Our driver, Qudratullah, told them in Farsi that he was carrying "Khaariji Khabarnigars" (foreign journalists). A hefty Afghan policeman flashed his torch at us in the car. The moment he saw my turban, he grinned and shouted to the check-post commander: “Khariji Nist, Hindustani Ast” (Not foreigners, they are Indians) and told us "Burroh" (go).
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OPED
— CULTURE |
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Music, migration and mobilephones
Vandana Shukla
Bidesia in Bambai - Kalpana Patowary, the star of the Bhoupuri music industry records popular songs for the migrants |
Social
unrest, upheavals and even discontent has sought expression through the various forms of music. Scores of songs emerged around freedom fighters like Bhagat Singh during the struggle for independence — from Bhojpuri to Garhwali and Punjabi. Contemporary times have witnessed unprecedented popularity of Naxalite singers like Gaddar (Gummadi Vittal Rao). In the classical music tradition, while male artistes were given jagirs and were addressed as Pandit and Ustad, women musicians were relegated to the status of baijis, the class of paid entertainers, not the artistes. The same art that offered men a high pedestal earned social ostracism for women. Their music was not recorded in the granthavalis, their names did not make to the pantheon of great classicists.
Gauhar Jan is said to have recorded the first 78 rpm disc in 1902. She was never conferred with the title of Ustad or Pandit of music. |
Then came technology and it seemed, it will change the rules of the game. It was the women singers, mostly baijis, who courageously modified their art, against the diktat of the shastra to suit the needs of the emerging technology of ‘recoded’ music. They were also instrumental in popularising the idea of selling or marketing music. When Vidya Shah, Director of “Women on Record,” a project supported by the Ford Foundation, researched music of the bygone era, she was surprised to find, in 1900, when gramophone companies came to India, it was only women who ventured out to experiment with the new technology, which required innovative artistry to compress an hour long concert into a three minute rendering for a 78 rmp disc. But, music traditions fostered and conserved by women failed to bring them the recognition they deserved. Tremendous changes have come about in the social status of women across globe- with socio- political developments in their respective societies affecting their status. For some strange reason, in India, a distinct feminist voice never emerged in the contemporary music. Their creative energies have been used to meet the growing market demand of the so-called love songs and devotional music. We do not have a single all-female band worth mention (barring Viva that disbanded), nor an organically grown music group that would have addressed women’s struggle against oppressive patriarchal practices like dowry, female foeticide and sexual violence. It is surprising, while the entire English publishing industry is dominated by women and there are distinct feminist voices in the contemporary literature of the Indian sub-continent, music industry has almost no presence of women as producers. Women sing only love songs While the world taps to the beats of changing identities of the Jats, Dalits, Naxals, migrant Biharis or the Blacks, even in the highly dynamic music industry, one rarely gets to hear songs of the women, by the women-- songs of their dilemmas, aspirations and identity, which has undergone tremendous change over time. A major reason behind the absence of women’s voice in the Indian music can be attributed to dominence of film music, which largely caters to traditional roles women are limited to, as objects of beauty and desire. Their almost absence from the history of evolution of the Indian music is also attributed to the lack of documentation and research facilities in cultural studies in our country. Surabhi Sharma, a documentary film maker from FTII( Films and Television Institute of India), Pune, has documented a few unusual journeys of the migrant people and communities in “Jahaji Music,” a feature length documentary. Her work is unique, such extensive research on contemporary music that addresses changes taking place at several layers — political, social, gender and sexual, is rarely attempted by a researcher in India. Surabhi came across an academic work by Dr Tejaswini Niranjana, a Bangaluru based academic, on “Gender Identity and Music” in 2007. Niranjana’s work draws on the nineteenth-century travel narratives — anthropological and historical studies of Trinidad, Hindi film music, and the lyrics, performances, and reception of chutney-soca (crossover music) and calypso songs (Afro-Carribean music) of the migrated population of Trinidad. Under this study academics from the third world countries, with minimal research funding, tried to collaborate, outside the university frame to study gender, identity and music in Trinidad and Jamaica. This dialogue was explorative, it was an effort to understand how and why music of the migrants changed. The kind of socio-political influences it absorbed and how the musical grammar respond to these changes. Politics of rebellion Remo Fernandes, a well known Goa-based pop musician, whose music reflects multiple influences — Goan, Portugese, Sega, Latin, and the music of the erstwhile European communist states, the dancehalls from Jamaica and Soca from Trinidad, became the narrator for “Jahaji Music.” As Remo moves around Jamaican dancehall singers( dancehall is a popular genre of music with reggae, roots and raaga music), recording interviews with the likes of Carlene Smith and Lady Saw, the film opens a new dimension of popular music before the viewer-- that women here articulate and assert their sexuality in the text of the songs and in their body language through performance, not for the pleasure of men, as is the case with most Bollywood songs, but to assert their power through their unbridled sexuality in playful satire, they use to assert their identity. A woman’s body in public sphere is not for male gaze in the path-breaking songs of Carlene Smith, the first dancehall queen. Lady Saw, who rebelled against the desirability of white women, whom she calls “pussy cat” challenges the white woman’s status as an object of sexual preference by the bold explicit moves of the voluptuous body of a black woman. She broke the all-male politics of music by becoming the first woman DJ, producer and singer. She said, as long as she sang nice, womanly romantic songs, she was accepted by the music industry, her raunchy music drew battle lines between genders and races. The control over music and the cultural sphere had to be reengineered with the politically volatile music of these artistes who refused to toe the line of nice women’s soppy songs. This highly provocative music evolved as a by-product of rebellion against the racial governments, the heightened awareness and assertion for racial rights turned towards assertion of gender equality in music. Music of political angst by male groups like, Desperados, Wippa Demus, Jalani Niaah, Sizzla Kalonji, Mighty Sparrow etc. gained popularity for their aggressive tone opposing oppression of the blacks. Their music of rebellion was used by political parties to their advantage, leading to assassination of a few musicians. There was memory Descendants of indentured labourers brought from India to the Caribbean between 1845 and 1917, on boats, brought a few belongings and their music with them. The memory of this music, retained through generations, launched the beginnings of a remarkable cultural practice among migrant Indians in Trinidad. For over forty percent of Trinidadians, who identify themselves as Indians, “Indianness” as conceived of and performed has historically been, and will remain, intimately related with what signifies nationalism, gender, culture, caste, race, and religion—in India. The folk songs they carried in memory created a new industry of chutney music in Trinidad, which offers an interesting insight into the status of women. The migrant women were supposed to live up to the values and rituals of the nineteenth century India, they had left behind, as opposed to their male counterparts. As custodians of Indian traditions, women were relegated to living in the past. It was through songs of a few rebellious female singers who exhorted women to get rid of sarees and chunnis, symbols of their slavery, the music and songs began to change. These songs rubbished double standards of the Indian male by giving a playful twist to the text of the songs. With this emerged Trinidad’s most dynamic site of cultural negotiation, its popular music chutney soca, a fusion of the Indian folk and Caribbean music, as also calypso music. Here again, the rebellion of the women is a carry over from their angst against the exploitation they suffered from the hands of the sugar planters they laboured for. Songs of identity In another documentary by Surabhi titled “Bidesia in Bambai”(both films were screened at Jodhpur RIFF-2013) – migration is the predominant theme, and the phone becomes a recurring motif of migrant identity. Mobile phones are the only way to stay connected with the mothers and wives back home in the village for the migrant, and it is also used to circulate the music. From the songs of the migrants in Bombay, now called Mumbai, Surabhi moves on to explore the production and marketing of the migrant’s Bhojpuri music in Mumbai. If the indentured labourers from India had taken their music in their memory to Trinidad, the Bhojpuri migrant carries his music in his mobilephone. His ringtone defines his Bhojpuri identity. “Bidesia in Bambai” follows two singers in Mumbai, who occupy extreme ends of the migrant worker’s vibrant music scene — a taxi-driver chasing his first record deal and Kalpana Patowary, the star of the Bhoupuri music industry. Most migrants in the maximum city inhabit the precarious edges, they live on the margins. Along with their meagre belongings, the impoverished migrants bring a vibrant musical culture that lends distinct identity to them in a hostile environment where the unmistakable political tone of Marathi hegemony often becomes counterproductive. “Bhojpuri pop music has become a political tool of identity building in Mumbai, performances are built up to give a public face to the nameless migrant,” says Surabhi. Their music is produced, circulated and performed in the crumbling sites. The migrant is both the subject of, and the audience for this music. The musical landscape he inhabits mobilises notions of masculinity, gives a footing to his identity, makes tangible his desire for a place in the city and evokes his longing for home. The folk tradition reinvents itself to suit modern tools of technology — the mobilephone, by modifying its tone and tenor to meet the needs of migrant’s identity in a new location. Carried in the memory, recorded for gramophone or, ringing in mobilephone, music continues to create distinct identities in a global village. And a village it remains. A migrant tells the interviewer, there is hardly any power in the ares he inhabits in Mumbai, making it hard for him to recharge his
mobilephone.
On a different note
Dalits and the dispossessed, who remained on the lower rungs of society, gave expression to their angst through folk songs and folk theatre in the past.
Dalit pop, a new genre, is making a caste-defying statement in Punjab. Roop Lal Dhir has crooned many numbers glorifying
Ramdasiyas. Dalit distinctiveness is proudly flaunted in titles like “Cool
Chamar”, “Kattar Chamar”, “Lion Chamar” and S S Azad’s “Ankhi Putt Chamaran de”. It is a banned
word - The use of the word ‘Cha¬mar’ attracts
punishment under the SC/ST Act. The singers claim it as a statement of pride.
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