V for Veena and Vastanvi

An abbreviated edit of this post appeared in this week's Tehelka mag. Here's the online version. Print also available, I believe. [Can someone hold a copy for me, please? :) I'll collect it when back.]
So here it is.

What a fascinating start to the new year. As a young, relatively serious Muslim, I am naturally interested in news stories and opinions pertaining to Islam. More so in today's climate where Islam is, shall we say, not exactly subject to much praise, or even authentic, objective appraisal.

Which is why it is more than a little disheartening to see two recent big news stories doing the rounds in the subcontinent in this regard, that are so inane and yet reflect so well what is wrong with:

1. the Islamic ummah [community] itself, and
2. the perception of Islam as bandied about by mainstream media and lapped up by everyone.

I speak of the chart-topping story centred around Pakistan's Veena Malik, her Bigg Boss stint and the subsequent outrage it unleashed. [But of course we all know this already.] The second case I refer to is that of Maulana Ghulam Mohammad Vastanvi and the controversy surrounding his statements. Exactly. A lot of you are probably thinking, “Who? What?”, and to save you the trouble of Googling said gentleman, let me introduce Vastanvi saheb as the recently appointed 'Mohtamim' or Rector of the Darul Uloom, Deoband, who has now resigned after a fair bit of noise by 'the good Muslims of India'.

[What is ironic here, from a Muslim P.O.V. is that most regular Muslims don't know and certainly don't care who the rector of the Darul Uloom is – it does not affect our daily lives. On the other hand, all of us are pretty much up to speed on Veena Malik and the sordid details of her private life; she would have been the subject of much discussion in most Muslim households. And therein lies the problem.]

Vaaii? Just because I'm a womaan!!?

Let us take the curious case of Veena Malik first. We all know of the 'slut-shaming' hue and cry Pakistan's media and masses are directing at Veena. We also know of bright, sane voices in Pakistan speaking out against this [MUST READ: Sana Saleem, Shyema Sajjad, Raza Rumi, Urooj Zia etc.] but that's unfortunately not too many in comparison. Here's the thing. The outrage is not limited only to Pakistan. Muslims across the region are taking Veena's behaviour as a personal affront. I can cite examples from my own moderate, well-educated Muslim family and community.

How does Veena Malik's private participation in an entertainment show make her a representative of either her country or her religion? Why are people going hysterical over her actions when it has nothing to do with them? Where does this intrusive, and frankly, very ridiculous Islamic moral policing get off? One's faith is a very personal thing and in the context of Islam specifically, you will never be held responsible for something someone else did, so please back off. 'Nafsi-nafsi' as the saying goes. [Or, to use the vernacular: 'Whose father what goes?'] Veena, in a teary-fiery confrontation with a Mufti Abdul on a recent news show in Pakistan, was spot on when she said what she did is between her God and her. [The same channel called her back for more public bashing the next day, with Pak veteran actor/director Syed Noor and Atiqa Odho - and again Veena stood tall. w00t!] Who is anyone else to butt in and stand on judgement? There are far bigger problems with Islam as practised today than what a starlet/cricketer/actor/politician/academic did in his or her personal life. Unfortunately the point is, that for some reason, Muslims mostly tend to get rubbed the wrong way on all inanities. [This happens with other communities and groups as well, but I am speaking of the Muslim ummah.] First things first. Veena Malik is not an aberration or a shocker, hence need not be made a loud example of. I may not approve of Veena Malik personally but that's my opinion and I cannot foist my judgement on her – more so using the tag of Islam to browbeat her with. I will say this: I now respect her for her courage, for facing up to a most vicious and unfair attack by an unthinking people and for standing up for herself publicly. I thumb my nose at mullahs and all other self-righteous thekedaars of Islam and really, more people need to do so. My simple request to today's Muslim everywhere: look to yourself, mind your own business and do jihad the best way – that is, struggle against your own self. [Before everyone starts panicking, please note: jihad simply means 'struggle' not 'holy war', in the same way that fatwa simply means 'opinion' and not 'death sentence'.]

Abeyaar, WTF did I do?

And now, on to the next segment: Maulana Vastanvi's predicament. In short, all the Maulana really said was that yes, Guajarat 2002 happened, it is now 2011 and since the state as a whole is doing so bloody well economically, it stands to reason that Muslims in the state are also doing okay, there is development and we should take this positive and move ahead. Nothing wrong as far as I can see. No particular eulogy or praises for Narendra Modi or any reference to his being faultless in the riots and general horror of the time. But no! Offence must be taken, outrage must be had. Hot-headed loonies decided that the Gujarat card was being undermined. “Muslims are the victims! Always the victims!” and how dare this forward-thinking, sensible educationist talk about anything else?

Now. Frankly speaking, the Darul Uloom and its administration or opinions don't really figure in a common Muslim's day-to-day life. One does not look to the Darul Uloom for daily guidance or direction. It may be India's most historic and renowned seat of Islamic learning - but is more popularly only known as 'that Muslim joint where they hand out unsavoury fatwas from time to time' [a whole different kettle of fish we can leave for later] by the general populace. Which is to say, that unless Vastanvi's tepid remarks in some interview with, who else, the TOI *insert applause* was not played up and given its current tabloidy-political-communal-controversial tint, none of us could have cared less. There is so much outrage because fragmented and choppy edits and reporting can cause such things. Again, the outrage is only on the part of a few people, and possible has some shady political angle to it which I do not care to go into. That's my point. I don't care what some administrator of some religious body said – especially since it was so neutral and non-news- worthy. Somewhere I see ridiculous media shenanigans in raking up another controversy surrounding Islam-Gujarat-mullahs-Modi. Sure the Deobandis are now screaming bloody murder [not really, but you know], Vastanvi has had to step down as Mohtamim and the issue is still getting acreage in publications when it is all such a big yawn. Here's the thing: was all this necessary? Does it affect the common Muslim in any way if Vastanvi says Gujarat HAS developed under Modi? [Well, hasn't it?] Can we all please stop feeling that Mulsims are still being crushed underfoot when in fact they may be not, and that the events of 2002 were a terribly unique occurrence and not the norm? Muslims – please stop playing the victims when not needed, media- stop your silly news-byte worthy shenanigans. The resulting noise is a bit much.

A closing thought. I am sure there is a significant number of Muslims today who think along reasonable lines, do not fall for every old provocation in the book, know their religion for what it is and do not need to nod along to everything certain clerics and scholars say just because they appear to know better. It is time to stop being a 'silent majority' [as I hope you are] and come out of your shells.

All I can say is, the outrage is outrageous.

Bas, khallaas.

PS:

On a seriously light note, please turn up the volume and watch this hilarious remix tribute video to Veena Malik, created bye DJ Shahrukh. Phrases that we can take away from Veena's epic interview and laugh forever over: Agar-magar?!, jazbaati, bos-o-kinaar, husn-o-jamaal, fohosh, and the epic cultness of “Mufti Sahab! Yeh kya baat hui?!!” 
Which phrase I and many others have already started using with relish in appropriate situations.

Meanwhile Back Home...

Kashmir does not rest. The media party has ended, sure. But nothing has really changed since last summer's horror.

Tehelka is possibly the only popular publication that continues to show real interest in Kashmir, after all the hurly burly was done.

I recommend subscribing to tehelka.com's Kashmir Uncut YouTube channel, for some real reporting, ugly truths and hopefully, eye-openers. Special series directed by Pragya Tiwari and team.

Note: Most vids are- well, apart from worth watching - saddening, disturbing or plain infuriating. Keep that in mind before you start.

I've Come To Look For America

So I finally made it across various seas, a couple of oceans and substantial portions of land to reach the United States of America [Wiki it] on the 30th of December, 2010. I know. That's like so last year, right?

The adventures began when I left Jammu a week earlier. Idea was to train in, spend a few days in the Dilli, meet old and new friends and then take off for foren. As always, that whole 'the best laid plans of mice and men...' deal happened. Meaning the foren came later rather than sooner. Not that I minded. I love D-D-D-D-Dilli, Dilli. Song follows. Sing along, please.
 

Now, things started off as planned. Reached Dilli okay, met new Twitter fraands [to wit: St_Hill, Mah_Ima, Fakeha, as1fk, s_purba, Marryam, mriganayanika] and regular old fraands. Metro'ed as much as I could from Ghaziabad abode to all ends of the city. I do like the Dilli Metro, in spite of occasional 'yatra seva mein vilambhs'. Clean convenient and most wonderfully, 'ladies only' coach at the front of every ride.

Finally visited posh Hauz Khas market on Christmas day for lunch with the Avegiii which we had planned at that place called 'Gunpowder'.

Avegiii took me through some winding, shady alleys of Hauz Khas, and since I trust her so much, I didn't panic. Turns out my trust and friendship were not misplaced. We reached lakeside and there was the Gunpowder signage. Up three flights like giggly gals we went, only to realise at the very end, that the place was closed for Christmas. Sigh. There had been a sign at the ground floor, which we totally ignored in our chatty-laughy climb upwards.  

Anyway. Nice facepalm walk downstairs it was. Where we saw the Junglist Movement, saluted etc.

[BTW, verrr interesting kitschy film poster stores which I will visit on return journey.]

Lunched at 'Naivedyam' eventually, for okay-to-above-average South Indian khaana. Had nice filter kaapi after ever so long. Also met the fantastic foodie Marryam Reshii and her adorable Kashmiri husband. 

Dilli days were made up of sight-seeing. Street-walking in Puraani Dilli, which I love returning to. Visited Balli Maaran and the utterly uncared for Ghalib Memorial in Gali Qasim Jaan. Very heartbreaking to see the nonsense state of Ghalib's last abode. 'Ghalib-e-khaasta ke baghair kaunse kaam band hain? Ro'iye zaar-zaar kya, kijiye haaye haaye kyun?' :(

Prayed at Jama Masjid, and unlike last visit where I was completely pissed off with the peeps inside making noise and having a picnic of sorts, this time around it was quieter, and more masjid-like. [Also, w00t! w00t! Running hot water at the wodhu  nooks, which was very lovely in the Dilli winter.]

Did book shopping [Urdu poetry, Islamic books] at one sweet uncle's carpeted bookshop. 'Please remove shoes and all' deal it was. Spent a pleasant hour there, shoeless.

Now, right opposite Jama Masji'd maingate, was this deadly sweet-laden cart. Delish matka firni, doodhi halwa, gajar halwa etc. for ridiculously awesome price of INR 12/- or something. Please to try. 

So far, so good.

Then it started snow-blizzard-ing in Dilli [or at least fogging up verrr bad] and all flights went for a toss. Which is when the exciting phase of my travels began - the Dilli Layover in Swank Hotels, or as I like to call it - DilLiSH. 

The first night my flight was cancelled, I was pretty kicked. Air France [nice enough airlines, tres sucky ground staff at IGI Airport] put us stranded passengers up at the Ramada in Gurgaon. I got a swank double room with a view all to myself, see-through bathroom, TV, Wi-fi, the works. Plus I became pals with one cute Bong-boy-kid traveller and it was a pleasant stay for two days. 

Managed to go sight-see at Humayun's Tomb with two lovely ladies, so that's one more item crossed off my To-Do-In-Dilli list . 

Am pretty sure you've all seen Humayun's Tomb [if not, Google Image it], so I'll show you something you might not have seen in relation to it.

This would be Imran Khan and Kat Kaif doing a song shoot at said location on the very day Fakehaa, Mah_Ima & I were there. Coincidence? I think not. [Stalkers...]

The next flight delay/cancellation was sordid, tiring, unbelievable. Horrendous night at hawaai adda. Was ready to crash and burn by 0400 hours. After very Kafka-esque experiences, finally found self with room at The Park, CP. Well, well, well! I know, right?

Extra colourful rooms at The Park

Anyway. I liked Ramada Inn better because of cosy feel, and, this is most important, it had a bidet in the toilet. I HATE HATE HATE this concept of waterless bathrooms. It may be right up the foreigners' alley, but I need a tap and lots of water in my loo because I was born and brought up the desi way. Steeuuupid swanksters. I had mineral water bottle to keep me company but marble bathroom with telly in it did not impress.

Marble-sharble, Tv-sheevee theek hai, get bidet.

Bedroom and bed were fine, no complaints. I slept off immediately. 

And may I just say what a fantastic spread for lunch. Am regretting having slept through breakfast. The hotel staff is most definitely not. I mean, I went all out. Cleaned out the buffet. *flashback*

Allors. Flight to Paris was nice, what with sudden barrage of French by everyone on board, and very Francais accented Anglais, just like the movies. I was having giggle fit listening to it. To make matters worse, was seated next to lovey-dovey French couple, and well, you know... *blush*

Reached Charles de Gaulle hawaai adda, negotiated through various terminals and metros and security checks in a daze, thinking, "ZOMG! I am actually in Paris. ZOMG!" Also having visuals from various postcards and Paris, Je T'aime.

I must confess that I deliberately went over and spoke to many peeps in the airport just to practise my basic French. Cheap thrills. 

After reaching departure lounge, I learnt that my flight was 'retarded'. [See pic.]

Also, some issue with mon billet, so had verrrry awesome time listening to to hot French men discuss my situation and how to get me on the flight. As I was twirling my tresses [underneath scarf] and smiling suggestively, they sorted out the mess and that was the end of that dream sequence. Sigh... Very Joseph Fiennes one of them was, and with a French beard to boot.

And then a few hours later I reached, can you believe it, the US of A. Sweet immigration guy; had a lovely chat with him although was very miffed he did not know about Kashmir. I mean, WTH??!! Still, he was polite and smiley, I was polite and smiley, we made small talk, I got a quick stamp on passport and here I am, in the wintry Mid-West.

So far Umreeka has been pleasant and quiet, and polite and internet is really fast. Also, I am in love. Crazy love. Check out how crazy:

Zizou, the nephew

It has snowed beautifully in the past few days. I love it [because I don't have to go out and shovel the driveway].

Here, this is me and boyfriend.

Final notes on initial thoughts on Umreeka:

1. Clean, quiet, polite, peeps follow rules - Yayyyy!

2. Huge servings of everything. Unbelievably huge produce. Like gigantic fruits and vegetables. It's scary.

3. Too much availability/use/waste of energy and resources. Too much. Disturbingly much. In that I am constantly disturbed by comparing to the way things are back home. Non-CFL lights, power sockets without ON/OFF switch so gadgets are in stand-by mode forever, dishwashers, big fuel-guzzling cars, central heating, instant hot water... Sure it's comfortable but... it's l'excessive, non? Anyway. I feel bad about it.

4. Great community care by Govt - libraries, Recreation Centres, facilities for each town/community. How nice for families and kids especially. There should be no crime at this rate what with all the perks you get with being an American. Hmmph. 

Of Weddings in a Village

Made a slap-dash trip to Breswana recently to attend a family double-wedding. Photo-story follows [click on pics to magnify]:

Started with road trip from Jammu towards Kishtwar on NH-1B; disembarked 8 hours later at small roadside town of Prem Nagar. Where one crosses a footbridge to get to the mountains on the other side. At this time of the year, the Chenab has shrunk considerably because the source waters in the mountains are now freezing etc. Do the geography yourself.

Here is the bridge we cross and the other half of Prem Nagar built into the facing mountains. It's about a hundred metres max, if that, though when I was little I distinctly remember it being about 5 kms longer.

Once at Prem Nagar, the horses await, and we start our upward ride: 3 to 4 hours at a comfortable amble. Pits stops and refreshments are to be had as you like it.

 Ahem. By the way, this is my new gorgeous black mare. So far I call her Black Mare, which is #FAIL.

Finally reached my home in the hills after sunset, and it was c-c-c-cold, but aha! What's this I spy in my room? Verily it is a blazing fire. Zzzzzzz.

After a great overnight rest, which was preceded by fresh warm buffalo milk and a good hot water foot bath, I awoke the next morning to play with the pups and a few village shrimps. Boy on left is our in-house Gujjar kid, Hashim Din. Boy on right is young Irfan, who has some sort of mental disability and is still stuck at an infant's level of mental development. He's great with animals. :)

Close up of baby cocky spangrel [Cocker Spaniel+mongrel mix], Motu, at his favourite spot, under the dahlias in the sunny front yard.

Anyway... Wedding time, and we head to the next village where Shahida and her brother Nisar were both getting married on the same day. Shahida to leave for her new home, and Nisar to bring his new wife in.So this is the path we take.On foot and horseback, as the road allows.

Now, a village wedding in my ilaaka is of monstrous proportions for the very simple reason that everyone in a village is related to everyone else in the village... and very often the adjoining few villages as well. So a general invite to the whole world and its family is sent out, and since weddings are fun times and provide a rare reprieve from their daily lives to our hardy village peeps, everyone takes advantage of these occasions to come out in numbers. Huge numbers.
What makes a village wedding doable, for even the poorest of people, is the fact that everyone pitches in. Every single family offers something to the wedding preparations. People will either bring milk, curd, ghee, livestock, rice, wheat or whatever they have to help the host families do their thing. This is apart from the cash gifts they give to the bride and groom.


This particular wedding I was at was expected to host 700 peeps at each meal. And so cooking preparations were awesome to witness. The Culinary Department at such dos is the biggest deal. An outdoor cooking camp is set up, with logs, gigantic vessels and impressive manpower at work the whole day. They are in charge of providing chais, rotis, main meals and other special requests for special guests from time to time.

At meal times, the guests are called in batches to the eating tent. Catering units form a human chain and after the hand-washing routine [in Kashmir, hosts go from guest to guest, after they are seated for a meal, carrying the 'tash-nerr' (which means receptacle and kettle respectively) for them to wash their hands in], the preserved plates are brought in piping hot from the cooking area.

 

The pre-served plate will normally have a bed of rice, some chutney and a few pieces of meat from the various dishes on the menu. Then one by one, a line of servers start making rounds carrying huge buckets serving various curries or topping up plates and refilling rice as the case may be. Water bearers do their thing simultaneously. It is most wonderful to watch a well-oiled meal service in action.  [Please note, this is not a Waazwan. This is a most simple wedding meal practised in the poor mountain areas of our district. Waazwan happens in proper Kashmir, i.e. the Valley.]

Here is the young team of Caterers at Shahida and Nisar's wedding.

Inside the wedding house, the aim of the game apparently is to cramp as many human bodies as possible within the smallest confines, then sit and talk loudly or sing folk songs as the mood sets on you. :) The ladies and kids come decked up in their finest, they sit, chat, meet long-lost relatives, gossip and in general make for a very noisy and entertaining scene. For people who don't like crowds [guilty] it is a bit much, and I found myself standing outdoors, in the shamianas or secluded in a separate room with no intruders. Still, most interesting to watch.

 The men and women sit separately, with most of the men involved in the actual running around and wedding work. The ladies just have it easy.
And so, Day 1 of the Wedding, which was Mehndi Raat. Shahida's girlfriend from college in Doda came up to the village to do her mehndi and makeup.

Cute decorations for the next day, when the two brides would be seated side-by-side: One, the new incoming bride and the other, the bride to leave for her new home. [Check out the heart garland. #WIN!]

 New bride arrived in a paalki. Her village was about two and a half hours away, on mountain roads- which means uphills and downhills! Most impressive of the paalki-wallahs.

 And soon after, Shahida's groom arrived. [On one of our horses. :]

 Here are the two lovely ladies. Shahida, screen left, and new bride, screen right.

Cash garlands are a very big deal here, as in UP and Mayawati. Except these are believable sums, and ten rupee notes.
Another funny tradition: After the baraatis/groom come to the bride's house, a select group of close lady relatives from the girl's side, gets to come to his room and stare at him for a while. After many awkward moments, and a heavy silence, suddenly every one of them thrusts cash gifts at his loyal companion, who accepts these token as part of his duties. Scene ends.
Here is Zaana Auntie, Shahida's Ma, seated near the groom [but not talking to him: shy].

 Here is the dashing groom Nisar, happy to have brought home a blushing bride.

 And that was that. A most eventful wedding happened. Masses met and good wishes passed along for the next generation. There were no fights which is surprising for such big gatherings. Much chai was had, many songs were sung. One pretty girl left and another took her place. Lots of animals gave their lives for a good cause. Burp.

Back at the Haji homestead, on the morning of my departure, was hanging with our horses in the fields.

Groomed Black Mare for a bit and she was like, "WTF?" Zanskari horses are not namby-pamby and she was really irritated as I brushed her coat. Tee hee.

Quick stop at the school before rushing out. It was the first day of HPS's annual examination for the year 2010. Kids praying hard at assembly just before the event. :)

Examination hall was created outside in the winter sun because it was chilly inside the classrooms and most magical outdoors.

 Hehehe. Check out little Rubina applying herself as she works out an answer.

 Back home to say bye to the two pup faces: Motu and ThinSo. [ThinSo is stray boy we picked up from the streets in Jammu. He's a nutcase.]

 Farewell shot of the school as I left for Jammu.

Downhill is about 3+ hours of walking. We don't take horses going down because of the steep descent, big boulders and generally unnecessary leg-breakage-risk. In this pic, you can see my poor Abba limping along heroically with his cane for support. He had hurt his feet something terrible earlier and they were not healed yet. Toenails falling off, bleeding etc. But he did the trip and did it well. Hero!

 Here we are resting about halfway down. You can see the bridge at Prem Nagar at the bottom.

 Quick stop at our Doda digs and the office of the Amina Trust.

 

And another quick stop at Kishtwar, my mother's hometown, for a family visit. Here was the highlight of the Kishtwar trip, my bouncy baby cousin Sa'ad, a blonde bonmbshell and most clever kid who I have marked out for greater things in the future.

 

This concludes the present broadcast. Please leave comments and questions below. Also, point out typos to me. There is no way I'm rereading the entire post. :)

Yes, yes, contrary to what you think, I do not write only about Arundhati Roy. [Oh, look, I did it again.]
Anyway, am back from quick trip to Breswana and the school. Attended a couple of weddings, and a couple of funerals. Most disturbing.
Pics soon. Here's a sample, from happy times in Breswana:

This here is my new puppy face. So far have not named him because he has not yet developed an animality. Based on looks alone, we call him Motu. Sometimes we call him Fatty. (He does't respond to either.) He responds very well to food.
He's very adorable, okay? Okay.

Happy Halloween, Ms Roy - XOXO

From Hari Kunzru's blog, direct C&P here:
[This message from Arundhati Roy arrived in my inbox this morning. The allegation that the news media is colluding with those orchestrating the violence is extremely serious and requires a response.]

SOMETHING FOR THE MEDIA TO THINK ABOUT

 A mob of about a hundred people arrived at my house at 11 this morning (Sunday October 31^st 2010.) They broke through the gate and vandalized property. They shouted slogans against me for my views on Kashmir, and threatened to teach me a lesson. The OB Vans of NDTV, Times Now and News 24 were already in place ostensibly to cover the event live.  TV reports say that the mob consisted largely of members of the BJP’s Mahila Morcha (Women’s wing). After they left, the police advised us to let them know if in future we saw any OB vans hanging around the neighborhood because they said that was an indication that a mob was on its way. In June this year, after a false report in the papers by Press Trust of India (PTI) two men on motorcycles tried to stone the windows of my home. They too were accompanied by TV cameramen.

What is the nature of the agreement between these sections of the media and mobs and criminals in search of spectacle? Does the media which positions itself at the ‘scene’ in advance have a guarantee that the attacks and demonstrations will be non-violent? What happens if there is criminal trespass (as there was today) or even something worse? Does the media then become accessory to the crime? This question is important, given that some TV channels and newspapers are in the process of brazenly inciting mob anger against me. In the race for sensationalism the line between reporting news and manufacturing news is becoming blurred. So what if a few people have to be sacrificed at the altar of TRP ratings? The Government has indicated that it does not intend to go ahead with the charges of sedition against me and the other speakers at a recent seminar on Azadi for Kashmir. So the task of punishing me for my views seems to have been taken on by right wing storm troopers. The Bajrang Dal and the RSS have openly announced that they are going to “fix” me with all the means at their disposal including filing cases against me all over the country. The whole country has seen what they are capable of doing, the extent to which they are capable of going. So, while the Government is showing a degree of maturity, are sections of the media and the infrastructure of democracy being rented out to those who believe in mob justice? I can understand that the BJP's Mahila Morcha is using me to distract attention the from the senior RSS activist Indresh Kumar who has recently been named in the CBI charge-sheet for the bomb blast in Ajmer Sharif in which several people were killed and many injured. But why are sections of the mainstream media doing the same? Is a writer with unpopular views more dangerous than a suspect in a bomb blast? Or is it a question of ideological alignment?

Arundhati  Roy

October 31^st 2010

Arundhati Roy re possible sedition charge - Oct 26th 2010

Dear all of you,
I am sending this from Srinagar. This is my statement in response to the news that I may be arrested soon on charges of sedition. It would be lovely if the whole statement is carried— which is why I am not sending it to the wire services.
All the best
Arundhati

STATEMENT BY ARUNDHATI ROY

I write this from Srinagar, Kashmir. This morning’s papers say that I may be arrested on charges of sedition for what I have said at recent public meetings on Kashmir. I said what millions of people here say every day. I said what I, as well as other commentators have written and said for years. Anybody who cares to read the transcripts of my speeches will see that they were fundamentally a call for justice. I spoke about justice for the people of Kashmir who live under one of the most brutal military occupations in the world; for Kashmiri Pandits who live out the tragedy of having been driven out of their homeland; for Dalit soldiers killed in Kashmir whose graves I visited on garbage heaps in their villages in Cuddalore; for the Indian poor who pay the price of this occupation in material ways and who are now learning to live in the terror of what is becoming a police state.

Yesterday I traveled to Shopian, the apple-town in South Kashmir which had remained closed for 47 days last year in protest against the brutal rape and murder of Asiya and Nilofer, the young women whose bodies were found in a shallow stream near their homes and whose murderers have still not been brought to justice. I met Shakeel, who is Nilofer’s husband and Asiya’s brother. We sat in a circle of people crazed with grief and anger who had lost hope that they would ever get ‘insaf’—justice—from India, and now believed that Azadi—freedom— was their only hope. I met young stone pelters who had been shot through their eyes. I traveled with a young man who told me how three of his friends, teenagers in Anantnag district, had been taken into custody and had their finger-nails pulled out as punishment for throwing stones.

In the papers some have accused me of giving ‘hate-speeches’, of wanting India to break up. On the contrary, what I say comes from love and pride. It comes from not wanting people to be killed, raped, imprisoned or have their finger-nails pulled out in order to force them to say they are Indians. It comes from wanting to live in a society that is striving to be a just one. Pity the nation that has to silence its writers for speaking their minds. Pity the nation that needs to jail those who ask for justice, while communal killers, mass murderers, corporate scamsters, looters, rapists, and those who prey on the poorest of the poor, roam free.

Arundhati Roy

October 26 2010

Glory Days

India's thrilling, tear-inducing, goose-bumping gold medal win at the CWG 2010's 4x400m Women's Relay event.


Utter fantasticness. Wooo hooo! You know the result before-hand, but does that take away from the adrenaline rush? :) Nope.

Well done, Manjeet Kaur, Sini Jose, Ashwini Chidananda Akkunji and Mandeep Kaur. These lovely ladies finished the race in 3:27.77 seconds, bringing in India's first ever track gold for women at the Games. Way back in 1958, the 'Flying Sikh' Milkha Singh took the gold in the men's 400m at the Cardiff Games. There has been no other track gold for India at the Games.

Tripping on Arabic Pop

That's what I've been doing these past few days.
Primary reason being my unhealthy love for the language that is Arabic, with its depth, poetry, romance, and heavy throatiness.
The other being, it is good music. I don't listen to popular Angrezi music much because that often inspires me to attempt to kill myself, but Arabic pop is fun, fun, fun.
But I am a dilettante fan. Have no real knowledge of real great Arab greats. A cursory Google search lands me the usual suspects: Amr Diab, Nancy Ajram, Elissa, Khaled, Ramsy etc. Amr Diab of course seems to be the ishtaar of the lot, and has been since my school days.
In any case, that's my trip currently. And a few important observations after YouTubing Arabic music videos:
1. These modern vids are classy, shot very nicely.
2. The women are gorgeous.
3. The men are gorgeous.


Here's Nancy Ajram with 'Enta Eih'. English subs for your viewing pleasure.

Enjoy.