Month: October 2021

Rajib Banerjee Rejoins TMC At Tripura Rally After Quitting BJP

The former minister in the Mamata Banerjee government said he “repents” joining the BJP ahead of the assembly elections despite being asked by the West Bengal chief minister not to leave TMC.

Agartala: West Bengal BJP leader Rajib Banerjee has returned to the All India Trinamool Congress (TMC) on Sunday at a rally that was attended by the party’s national general secretary Abhishek Banerjee in Agartala in Tripura.

Banerjee, a former minister in the Mamata Banerjee government, said he “repents” joining the BJP ahead of the assembly elections despite being asked by the West Bengal chief minister not to leave the TMC.

Also Read: Two UP Congress Leaders Join TMC, Mamata Banerjee to ‘Visit Varanasi Soon’

He was named the BJP’s national executive committee member weeks ago and unsuccessfully fought the assembly polls from Domjur in Howrah district.

“I realised that I cannot accept the politics of hatred and divisive ideology propagated by BJP. I cannot accept the anti-people policies of the BJP,” he said.

“I had often aired my opinions to the BJP leadership and criticised the personal attack and slander on Mamata Banerjee but no one listened,” he added.

Banerjee claimed that he left the TMC due to misunderstanding, and joined the BJP being swayed by its blitzkrieg ahead of the polls.

“All these promises were lies and I cannot be a party to them anymore,” he said.

“I am sorry and repentant now. I will work under the leadership of Mamata Banerjee and Abhishek Banerjee,” he said.

Banerjee was not seen in any BJP programme after the election results were announced on May 2 and has often criticised the BJP leadership publicly.

(PTI)

Ship With Hundreds of Afghan Migrants Docks at Greek Port

Greece has been the main route into the European Union (EU) for asylum-seekers arriving from Turkey.

Athens: A Turkish-flagged cargo ship carrying 382 mostly Afghan migrants docked safely at a Greek island’s port early on Sunday, two days after losing power in the Aegean Sea and sending out a distress signal.

Six people among what was the country’s biggest single influx of migrants in years were detained after the vessel, the Murat 729, was towed into Kos port by a Greek coast guard ship, the migration ministry said.

Also Read: Europe’s Border Regime Is Killing Thousands

Greece has been the main route into the European Union (EU) for asylum-seekers arriving from Turkey. The number of arrivals has fallen sharply since 2016 after the EU and Ankara agreed a deal to stop migrants from crossing to Greece.

Since the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan in August, however, many EU states fear a replay of the refugee crisis of 2015, when nearly 1 million people, mainly Syrian refugees, arrived in the EU after crossing to Greek islands close to Turkey.

On Friday, Greece’s shipping ministry had asked Turkey to accept the ailing vessel’s return.

On Tuesday, four migrants, three of them children, drowned after a boat in which they and 23 others were trying to cross from Turkey to Greece sank off the island of Chios.

Man Dies After Being Gored at Spanish Bull-Running Festival

It was the first such fatality in the country since such events resumed after COVID-19 curbs were relaxed during the summer.

Madrid: A man bled to death from his injuries after he was gored at a bull-running festival in eastern Spain, authorities said.

It was the first such fatality in the country since such events resumed after COVID-19 curbs were relaxed during the summer.

Other participants tried to entice the animal away but their efforts failed.

Onda Council cancelled all bull-running planned at the town’s festival, which will end on Sunday. Other activities were not affected.

The animals let loose for the runs are generally used in bullfights later on the same day. A 2020 survey by Electomania, a polling company, found 46.7% of Spaniards were in favour of banning bullfighting, 34.7% were not in favour but did not back a legal ban and 18.6% believed it should be preserved.

Delhi’s Bara Lao ka Gumbad Gets a Facelift, but What Does Conservation Really Mean?

Efforts toward heritage improvement, beautification and renovation have important socio-economic implications but also uncomfortable contradictions.

Delhi recently witnessed the renovation of Bara Lao ka Gumbad, a Lodhi era tomb in South Delhi’s Basant Lok, complete with new lighting and beautified gardens. The gumbad is part of a longer list of monuments that have got makeovers over the past decade. This drive toward heritage improvement, beautification and renovation has important socio-economic implications and uncomfortable contradictions, particularly if we turn to the supposed “encroachers” in and around these sites.

There is also the post-neo-liberalisation trend of deals between private contractors, heritage organisations and the government in organising such drives to consider. These have led to both successful projects and miserable failures.

For example, the Taj Heritage Corridor plan in 2003 involved multiple private sector and government bodies. It proposed a corridor connecting the Taj to various monuments and beautifying the complexes, and cost the government Rs 17 crore. It led to multiple FIRs and a case in the Supreme Court. On the other hand, sites like Sundar Nursery have been extremely successful.

The politics of heritage conservation has many nuances and I am not attempting a verdict on them. Rather, I will tell the story of Bara Lao ka Gumbad based on what I could gather from various documents to see whether conservation efforts to retain the ‘original form’ are misplaced.

Bara Lao ka Gumbad. Photo: Jahnavi Sen

During the colonial era, Bara Lao ka Gumbad was located in what was the Palam tehsil of Delhi. South of Shah Jehanabad, Delhi was primarily divided into villages. The area behind the Priya complex (bordering Munirka village) was Kusumpur village, and it was here that you would have found the gumbad.

Often, the impression is that these old monuments were left to decay. In a sense that is true: villagers used them but had no desire for the modern historian’s aesthetic and fidelity to the “original” form. They plastered and built according to their needs. The gumbad was not ‘conserved’ by any definition – meaning an attempt to maintain its form with no change whatsoever. If a roof leaked, it may have been repaired without the previous form and material being replicated.

Also Read: Why Does Delhi Hide Its Treasures?

By the 1900s, Delhi was gearing up for the Durbar of 1911 and replacing Kolkata as the British empire’s capital. Additionally, tourism had increased. From this period, efforts to conserve Delhi’s historic structures took off on a massive scale. Part of these efforts was the publication of a comprehensive four-part report of every structure big and small across all tehsils and villages of the district, with description, condition, ownership, value, and worth for conservation.

In the case of the Bara Lao ka Gumbad, records from 1914 show that the building was used by villagers to store fodder. The record also tells us that the villagers closed two of the doors to the tomb, but it does not explain why. The bulk of the document is a detailed description of the monument – its measurement, conditions, orientation, material and so on. The document states that stones “have been removed” – presumably by villagers from the baradari adjacent to the gumbad, speculatively for some construction. The structure was deemed worthy of conservation in the report.

Entry from the Archaeological Survey of India, List of Muhammadan and Hindu monuments Volume 4 (Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1916).

Today, the Bara Lao ka Gumbad is part of a larger park complex that connects and contains other small monuments, also from the same period. All these monuments, including the gumbad, were classified as shamilat deh in terms of ownership. This means that they were common lands (in possession of the panchayat) of the Kusumpur village. More often than not, at least some of the land around the monument would also be shamilat deh land. The remainder of the land (the park and adjacent) would contain the residences of villagers. Conservation and garden landscaping was clearly an upheaval.

Bara Lao ka Gumbad is certainly not an outlier. Most monuments (that I have read on) were occupied by villagers – Purana Qila, Hauz Khas, Begumpur, Isa Khan tomb, Tughlaqabad fort and Lodi Gardens to name a small selection. The colonial Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) did not recognise village residences as rightful ownership, arguing that these spaces were always government land and that the residents were “squatters.” Incidentally, this meant that they were compensated for loss of belongings but not of land. The compensation was based on many social stratifications, primary amongst which was caste.

British attempts to conserve structures often faced setbacks over the years: spaces would be re-occupied by families, fall into disrepair, or be put to use by adjacent urban villages crammed to the brim. I’ve been going to the Priya complex since I was quite young, having lived close by, and the park was clearly dilapidated. The restoration of Vasant Udyan and the gumbad is an improvement. The park is greener, safer and is more welcoming to women and families.

For better or for worse, it has been restored rather than conserved: a facelift to its imagined “original” form rather than conserving it as is. This involved re-tiling, replastering, repainting with new materials. But the new repairs to the site carry some echoes of the past. The praise of beautification is instantly a condemnation of need-based use. There were a number of people evicted from the gumbad, though I have not found information on compensation or resettlement, if any.

Most reports describe the residents as “encroachers.” One report gives us more details: there were about 15 families living in huts, while one was living in the tomb itself. The huts were bulldozed. The family in the tomb had been living there since 1943. The resident (Anup Singh) contested that the land belonged to them via the wakf board and had been handed down by his grandfather. Both Singh’s justification of intergenerational use, and the eviction drive against “encroachers” are clear reminders of British conservation processes. “Squatting” and “encroachment,” terms persisting from British legalese, remain popular to define this use with what is arguably a class-inflected understanding of heritage. A look at the INTACH reports and Google searches for “monument” and “encroachment” will demonstrate that evictions are part and parcel of conservation.

Left: One edge has been renovated and the rest has been left in its earlier conserved state. Right: The front part has been repainted but the back has not been. Photo: Ragini Jha

Authentic preservation is just one way of staking a claim to Delhi’s heritage. Within a longer timeline and across wider spatial distributions, there are other ways of having a relationship with history: it would be hubris to pretend otherwise. I would contest that need-based land use in the monument has been no less historical or relevant – it is built on generations of ownership and/or use.

Monuments have changed shape and form over the years. They have been rebuilt, their fragments have been reused and they have been repainted, changed and added to by successive regimes. An original form often becomes hard to define: is it before or after an emperor added to the work of a previous one? Or a ruler added a jali around a shrine’s enclosed tomb a century later in imperial patronage? A different example: Akbar built Adham Khan’s tomb in obscurity to reduce upkeep and patronage. The concern with the building as a frozen time-stamp is just one perspective in a dynamic system of engagement.

Today, monuments often (though not always) tell stories of nobility and are restored to recuperate imperial Delhi. But just like kings, villagers and workers have improved, rebuilt, extended and painted monuments according to their requirements. They have made their claims to history. In one of many instances, the soon to be evicted villagers of Hauz Khas petitioned the government in 1914 that they and their ancestors have lived there for over a hundred years and therefore had a valid claim to the land. Who is to say that is not the case?

The ‘End of COVID’ Does Not Mean the Same for Every Indian

For millions of Indians, structural factors have given rise to an almost permanent state of ill health and poor healthcare.

When my parents were born in the early decades of free India, my grandparents were probably afraid of a number of deadly ailments to which their children could potentially succumb. But by the time I was born, child immunisation had picked up in many parts of India, and my parents, in then relatively better-off Maharashtra, are not likely to have lost much sleep over the possibility of me dying of diphtheria or picking up polio. They lived in a chawl with good, if not stellar, sanitary arrangements, so even cholera may not have featured at the top of their minds.

For my parents and for many like them in the late 1980s, polio, diphtheria, cholera, etc. had effectively “ended”. It is not like the microbes causing these ailments had disappeared or that the diseases were gone for good. It is just that in the small worlds of these people, the probability of becoming infected with these diseases had fallen dramatically.

But then, India contains within it many small and big worlds. Though polio had almost ended in the world of my parents, it continued to devastate the worlds of many others. Only much later, in 2011, did the little worlds of most people in the country finally align, with India registering its last reported case of polio. Clearly, we will witness, and are indeed witnessing, a similar differential and variable temporality with respect to the “end” of COVID-19.

Today, after a months-long harrowing period when no end was in sight, except for a weirdly triumphalist prime minister who declared “victory” in January 2021, COVID-19 is gradually inching towards an end for a large number of Indians. Secure in the protection offered by modern science and its vaccines, many seem to have shed their fears about getting infected and have begun to attend parties, go to cinema halls and in general ‘get on with life’. While COVID-19 is more or less tottering on the brink of its existence in the little worlds of all these people, we also know that neither India’s epidemic nor the world’s pandemic is anywhere near the finish for most people of Earth.

The dominant way of conceiving the end has been the attainment of a theoretical herd immunity, which might be when around 70% of a geographic region’s population is fully vaccinated. This metric brings us to the first challenge about the ends of epidemics. Governments can choose to declare a symbolic end even when one-third of people (30%) are still theoretically vulnerable. In India, the 30% who remain are most likely to be underprivileged persons who had little to no resources to access vaccination centers or the smartphone-based registration system, and marginalised communities for whom the state itself has had little time.

A volunteer distributes food to migrant workers travelling home, at Kanyakumari railway station. Photo: PTI

It is also important to remember that herd immunity has often been interpreted simplistically in the public discourse. Without going into all the complexities and limitations of this metric, it will suffice to say that herd immunity, or ‘herd protection’, as a threshold does not confer a physiological immunity to any individual, but works to epidemiologically protect a community from the uncontrolled spread of disease. The ensuing protection is also influenced by the probability of reinfections and the prevalence of protective behavior like masks, physical distancing and washing hands.

The concept is better applied in smaller geographic and demographic areas. Even if, say, around 70% of the population in your larger state or country is vaccinated, what is more likely going to offer you herd protection is your town (or ward, if you live in a large city) attaining those levels of vaccination. If you live in a very densely populated area, then herd protection might require a larger fraction than the (anyway sort of imperfect) 70%.

Vaccine-induced immunity is, in most cases, good with the currently used vaccines in India, although for now we have to live with the uncertainty around how long it effectively lasts. More importantly, it is the primary way to live normally (in any sense of the word), so inequities in the distribution of such immunity will have significant consequences. This goes beyond disparities in vaccination access, in fact.

The most basic requirement to mount an immune response against any pathogen, even when one is vaccinated, is a well-balanced diet. In a country of a billion people where the level of hunger has been termed “serious”, the basic raw material for building immunity is itself missing from the diets and bodies of millions of children and adults.

Even with two doses of any vaccine, COVID-19 will not exactly end for most of India’s undernourished persons, as well as for persons with weakened immune systems.

Photo: Gaurav Bagdi/Unsplash

When you always walk outside wearing footwear, losing your shoes somewhere and walking barefoot for some time might feel like quite a trek, and getting new shoes after that might even occasion a cheer. For most of the privileged public, experiencing the COVID-19 pandemic could and can be likened to such a challenging healthcare trek when for a short while they were without the basic protection they had been taking for granted.

The end of COVID-19 – however we define it – will mark for them relief and freedom: to go to their favorite restaurants without being stressed, to take lots of pictures with friends and without masks, and so forth.

But what does the end of COVID-19 mean for a factory worker, an agricultural labourer, a rickshaw-driver, a domestic worker, a sweeper, a waiter, a watchman? For someone who has always been forced to walk barefoot on rough, harsh terrain, does the culmination of a marginally rougher patch elicit any great feeling of relief?

A recent article by historian Kavita Sivaramakrishnan might help us understand the worlds of people in which staying healthy and accessing healthcare has always been a painful, barefoot odyssey. Sivaramakrishnan writes that outbreaks of infectious diseases are common and frequent in many parts of India, and both these smaller epidemics and the communities they affect find little to no place in official records – much less the mainstream media.

For example, although Indian officials declared the plague to be in full retreat a couple of decades after independence, smaller outbreaks were still occuring in villages and market towns, like the recurring outbreaks in villages near the Kolar gold mines. But these did not feature prominently in official policymaking discussions.

Women scan residents from Dharavi with an infrared thermometer in Mumbai, April 11, 2020. Photo: Reuters/Francis Mascarenhas

The structural conditions that give rise to such outbreaks in marginalised areas and communities, like incomplete sanitary arrangements, insufficient health infrastructure, environmental degradation and persistent poverty and social inequalities, also continued to be neglected – in terms of investment and commitment, if not in terms of rhetoric.

As Sivaramakrishnan says, policymakers prefer to conceptualise epidemics as finite, circumscribed events with a beginning, a middle and an end. That helps them project achievements and successes in terms of disease control and eradication. But these neat boundaries of beginnings and ends just evaporate at the doorsteps of millions of Indians for whom structural factors have given rise to an almost permanent state of ill health and poor healthcare.

Even when COVID-19 is ultimately brought under control in India, outbreaks and epidemics of infectious diseases, old and new, will continue to occur in many parts of the country and will cause disproportionate, preventable suffering among members of underprivileged communities. Policy discussions risk losing sight of these constant outbreaks if they stop at some endpoints based on selective statistics.

What an administrator or an elite commentator considers to be an endpoint makes little sense in the life of a vulnerable person – for whom the endemic and structural risk factors frequently go far beyond the epidemiological transmission of a microbe.

Let us not forget that vertical public health strategies focused on the control of a single disease have never led to sustainable and long-term healthcare improvements. While eliminating a deadly pandemic is a noble goal, we should not lose sight of what needs to be our larger, consistent goal: the elimination of suffering and the eradication of the injustice and inequalities that give rise to such suffering.

Kiran Kumbhar is currently studying the history of science at Harvard University, focusing on the history of medicine in modern India. He is also a physician and a health policy graduate.

Hate May Win Some Elections but It Does Not Stand the Constitutional Test or Solve Problems

The Supreme Court recently held that even ‘mere support given to a terrorist organisation’ will not attract sections of UAPA. How may it then be construed that some have been charged under the draconian law for ‘supporting’ the Pakistan cricket team?

Had the 1999 India-Pakistan cricket match in Chennai been played in 2021, some 50,000 Indians might have had cases registered against them.

This for the reason that when India lost that match to Pakistan, the entire stadium rose as one to cheer the winners in an unforgettable ovation.

In our day, what might one think of the Indian captain who shook hands with his Pakistani counterpart and congratulated him for Pakistan’s smashing ten-wicket victory in the recent T20 World Cup match played at Dubai?

Why may he not be reckoned as guilty of “anti-national sentiments” as the young medicos in Srinagar, a teacher in Rajasthan, and some students in Agra who likewise acknowledged that Pakistan victory with cheerful appreciation?

And what indeed may also be said of those British citizens of Indian origin who, tricolour in hand, cheer with gusto an Indian cricket team while they play England and win matches there?

And let it not be said that England and Pakistan are different kettles of fish; after all, the former enslaved us for close to two centuries (counting from the Battle of Plassey after which the Company usurped Diwani rights of tax collection from us), not the latter.

The anti-colonial freedom movement was waged against Britain, not our next-door neighbour.

Notably, Pakistan may well be a nuisance, but it has not been formally declared an “enemy” nation.

So, why has the British government been slow to take a cue from us in the matter of patriotism, and set about hounding British-Indian citizens who cheer for Indian teams?

It surely must hurt to have those of the erstwhile Empire cheer back who are now Britains themselves.

The legal aspect

In a landmark determination regarding grant of bail to some young Kerala men accused of having sympathies with the outlawed CPI (Maoists), and booked under the ubiquitous Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), the Supreme Court, while granting bail, has tellingly expanded on the question of what constitutes or does not constitute unlawful activity in the context of the said case.

The learned court has averred that “mere association with a terrorist organisation is not sufficient to attract section 38, and mere support given to a terrorist organisation is not sufficient to attract section 39. The association and the support have to be with the intention of furthering the activities of a terrorist organisation.”

If that be so, how may it be construed that expressing support for a rival team in a game of cricket constitutes an offence chargeable under any law, not to speak of the draconian UAPA?

No evidence has surfaced to the effect that these accused persons either incited or committed any violent act, or, in any manner expressed any intent to further any nefarious enemy project against India.

This question has also been raised unambiguously editorially by the Indian Express which, imaginatively, also asks whether such a punitive course against young Kashmiris is not sanctioned by law squares with the home minister’s recent expansively expressed objective to converse with Kashmiri youth about the noble ends of government policy in that beleaguered Union Territory.

The Express has sagaciously called upon the highest court “not to turn a blind eye to this latest round of excessive and unlawful action. It needs to throw out these cases and tell the police why their actions violate the constitution.”.

Watch: ‘Celebrating Pak Cricket Victory Over India Definitely Not Sedition’: Ex-SC Judge

Only the highest court may now settle the issue: is it criminal to applaud the victory of a rival team, be it a Pakistani one, over an Indian team?

And if so, under which provision of the existing jurisprudence?

And must a rival nation, not formally declared an “enemy” by the Indian state be so regarded by the citizen just to legitimise her patriotism?

Can an informally authorised and propagated hate be sufficient ground to charge those who do not participate in that hate?

The citizen must be told by the highest court if she is wrong or right to extrapolate from the above-cited case relating to the grant of bail to the accused persons in Kerala that the alleged offence committed by Kashmiri youth cheering a rival team is wholly gratuitous as well.

And, the Supreme Court may in its wisdom lay down guidelines as to when one may cheer a rival team and when one may not. And whether this sort of expression can be construed as a test of one’s loyalty to the constitutional republic.

Fuel Prices Hiked For 4th Straight Day; Petrol Crosses Rs 120 Mark in MP

While petrol has already hit the Rs 100-a-litre mark or more in all major cities of the country, diesel has touched that level in over one-and-a-half dozen states.

New Delhi: On Sunday, petrol and diesel prices were hiked for the fourth straight day, rising by 35 paise per litre each, pushing pump rates to new record high across the country. States with high incidence of local taxes, such as Madhya Pradesh, have the costliest fuel.

The price of petrol in Delhi rose to its highest-ever level of Rs 109.34 a litre and Rs 115.15 per litre in Mumbai, according to a price notification of state-owned fuel retailers.

Diesel now costs Rs 98.07 a litre in Delhi and Rs 106.23 in Mumbai.

Also Watch: Watch | Petrol and Diesel Price Surge: What’s Behind It and Why

This is the fourth consecutive day of the price hike. There was no change in rates between October 25 and 27, prior to which prices were hiked by 35 paise per litre each on four straight days.

While petrol has already hit the Rs 100-a-litre mark or more in all major cities of the country, diesel has touched that level in over one-and-a-half dozen states. Diesel rates crossed that level in various places ranging from Jalandhar in Punjab to Gangtok in Sikkim.

Prices differ from state to state, depending on the incidence of local taxes and cost of transportation.

The twin factors led to petrol price crossing Rs 120 a litre mark in places such as Panna, Satna, Rewa, Shahdol, Chhindwara and Balaghat in Madhya Pradesh.

The same level has also been crossed in two border towns of Rajasthan – Ganganagar and Hanumangarh.

Ganganagar has the costliest fuel in the country with petrol costing Rs 121.52 a litre and diesel coming for Rs 112.44 per litre.

Petrol price has been hiked on 25 occasions since September 28, when a three-week-long hiatus in rate revision ended. In all, prices have gone up by Rs 8.15 a litre.

Diesel rates have been increased by Rs 9.45 per litre in 28 hikes since September 24.

Prior to that, the petrol price was increased by Rs 11.44 a litre between May 4 and July 17. The diesel rate had gone up by Rs 9.14 per litre during this period.

(PTI)

G20 Summit: Jaishankar Discusses ‘Important Regional Concerns’ With Blinken

The meeting took place amidst growing international concern over China’s aggressive moves in the Indo-Pacific region.

Rome: External affairs minister S. Jaishankar met US secretary of state Antony Blinken on the sidelines of the G20 Summit on Saturday, discussing issues relating to the bilateral strategic partnership and updated each other on “important regional concerns”.

Jaishankar is accompanying Prime Minister Narendra Modi at the ongoing G20 Summit from October 30-31. Foreign secretary Harsh Vardhan Shringla and National Security Advisor Ajit Doval are members of the prime minister’s delegation.

“A very good meeting with Secretary of State Antony Blinkien in Rome on sidelines of G20 Summit. Discussed a wide gamut of issues relating to our partnership. Updated each other on important regional concerns,” Jaishankar tweeted along with a photograph of himself with the US Secretary of State.

The meeting took place amidst growing international concern over China’s aggressive moves in the Indo-Pacific region.

Modi is attending the summit at the invitation of Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi. Italy has held the presidency of the G20 since December last year.

Earlier on Saturday, Modi was seen interacting with world leaders, including US President Joe Biden, on the sidelines of the summit. President Biden had hosted Prime Minister Modi at the White House on September 24 for the first in-person meeting.

The G20 is a leading global forum that brings together the world’s major economies. Its members account for more than 80% of the global GDP, 75% of global trade and 60% of the population of the planet.

Also Read: G20 Leaders Face Tough Climate Talks on Second Day of Summit

The forum has met every year since 1999 and includes, since 2008, a yearly summit, with the participation of the respective heads of state and government.

The Rome summit is being attended by heads of state and government of G20 member countries, the European Union (EU), and other invited countries and several international organisations.

The summit is centred around the theme ‘People, Planet, Prosperity’, focussing on the areas of recovery from the pandemic and strengthening of global health governance.

(PTI)

How Climate Change, Geopolitics Are Linked to the Tragedy of a Pakistani Fisherman

Amir Hamza died of COVID-19 while imprisoned in India, far from his family in Karachi. What drove him to cross the invisible border might well be discussed at COP26.

The tragedy of a fisherman who died of COVID-19 while imprisoned in India, far from his family in Karachi, highlights the link between geopolitics and climate change – issues that will be deliberated at COP26 in Glasgow.

In November 2017, Amir Hamza was among the crew of a Pakistani fishing boat arrested by Indian security forces across the maritime border.

Fisherfolk along the Arabian Sea coast shared by nuclear-armed neighbours Pakistan and India know that they risk such arrests, as well as sea storms, if they stray across the invisible line. But it is a risk they take, driven by declining fish populations.

When caught, the men are hauled off to prison on ‘the other side’ and their boats impounded. Both sides rarely return these vessels, which often represent the life-savings of their owners.

Throw back the catch

Activists have long been urging both countries to adopt a no-arrest policy for fishermen who stray across the maritime border. “They should throw the catch back and let the fishermen go back rather than arresting them,” says Mumbai-based activist Jatin Desai.

Instead, “we treat each other’s prisoners like prisoners of war”, to quote the late Mohammad Ali Shah of the Pakistan Fisherfolk Forum (PFF). The Karachi-based community leader died in August, aged 65, after contracting COVID-19.

Amir Hamza, around the same age, was killed by the same virus two months earlier while incarcerated in Bhuj, a town in Gujarat, India. He was one of Shah’s constituents. He had been arrested along with other crew members of a Pakistani fishing boat for violating the maritime border in November 2017.

Amir Hamza’s posthumous identity papers. Photo: By arrangement

They had all completed their sentences and been repatriated, except Hamza. Shah’s successor at the PFF, Saeed Baloch, says that Hamza was of Bengali origin but had long lived in Pakistan.

The prison sentence itself is typically six-nine months but fishermen may end up spending years in prison as undertrials. Even after completing their terms, they must wait for consular access and identity verification.

Abject poverty keeps them far removed from the corridors of power and cutting edge research like a NASA study of 2019, showing how a warming Himalaya is impacting the marine ecology in the Arabian Sea.

These arrests violate international treaties like the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations 1963, which mandates that any foreign national arrested or detained must be granted access to their country’s consulate.

In denying consular access to arrested fisherfolk, both countries also violate their own 2008 agreement to provide consular access to all civilian prisoners within three months of detention.

Judicial committee

In 2007, India and Pakistan formed a joint judicial committee on prisoners comprising four retired judges from either side. The committee was supposed to meet twice a year and expedite the release of cross-border prisoners. However, it only met seven times until its last convention in October 2013 in India and has been lying defunct since then.

The Committee needs to be urgently reconstituted. In May 2018, India appointed its four nominees. Pakistan has yet to do so.

Hamza had a Pakistani national identity card but had not updated it to the computerised version. This led to delays in his identity verification and repatriation, forcing him to languish in detention until he died of COVID-19.

His mortal remains were stored at a morgue at GK Civil Hospital, Bhuj. A Gujarat government certificate, issued on September 9, lists June 13 as the date of demise.

Amir Hamza’s death certificate. Photo: By arrangement

The wheels of bureaucracy churn slowly. The paperwork for Hamza’s identity verification and repatriation of the body began in August, after an official visited Hamza’s family in Karachi.

Imagine an official visiting you at home to inquire if you are related to your loved one, held prisoner across the border for four years. Then he tells you the person died two months ago.

That is how Hamza’s family learnt of his passing.

The Pakistan High Commission in Delhi issued emergency identity papers. Pakistan’s interior ministry wrote to the prisons department in Lahore to organise transportation for the body via ambulance to Karachi.

Why these formalities could not have been fulfilled in Hamza’s lifetime remains a mystery. Officials on both sides blame the other for the delays.

Amir Hamza’s last journey: Pakistan Rangers receiving the body at the Attari-Wagah border. Photo: By arrangement

Tortuous delay, tortuous route

Hamza’s bereaved family had to wait another month to receive his body.

His last journey followed the torturous route forced upon cross-border prisoners, alive or dead. Hamza was transported over 1,200 km north to the Attari-Wagah border, then over 1,200 km south to the port city.

The direct sea or air journey between the Gujarat coast to Karachi takes about two hours.

The Indian Border Security Force handed over Hamza’s mortal remains to a deputation of 18 Wing, Punjab Rangers at the Attari-Wagah border on 14 September 2021 at around 6.30 pm. Representatives of Edhi Centre then transported Hamza by ambulance to Karachi.

The body was strapped in such a way that his family could not see his face one last time. They did not even have money for the funeral. The Pakistan Fisherfolk Forum paid those expenses.

Red tape

The delays in repatriating Hamza’s body is neither new nor peculiar to one or the other side.

In Hamza’s case, India provided consular access to Pakistan on February 16, 2018 but couldn’t confirm his nationality, says Jatin Desai, a journalist and activist with the Pakistan India People’s Forum for Peace and Democracy.

Desai, who has been following such cases for years, remembers the Pakistani fisherman Nawaz Ali, incarcerated in India for 13 years. It took a month to repatriate his body after he died in 2012.

In July 2017, an Indian fisherman Kana Chauhan, 37, died in a Pakistani prison after complaining of chest pain. His body too, lay in the morgue for weeks before it could be sent back.

Two other Indian fishermen, Vaaga Chauhan and Ratan Das, died in a Karachi prison on December 12, 2015 and February 8, 2016 respectively. Their bodies reached India months later, on April 14, 2016.

Also Read: As Another Fisherman Dies Across the Border, India and Pakistan Need to Work on Their Priorities

Last July, it took a month for the body of Pakistani fisherman Abdul Karim Bhatti, who died in India after being imprisoned there for seven months, to be flown home to Karachi.

Explaining the process behind the delay in Hamza’s case, Saurabh Singh, superintendent of police, Bhuj, told Shishir Arya of the Times of India that the established procedure for such cases involves the state’s home ministry taking up the matter, then pursuing it with the Union home ministry. The Union ministry then takes up the issue with the relevant foreign country. Each country then follows its own procedure to identify the individual and repatriate them.

If the foreign prisoner’s nationality cannot be verified the body, it cannot be repatriated and the last rites take place in the arresting country.

This is what happened in the case of Imran Kamran, a 38-year-old man Pakistani national who died in January this year. He had been detained at the Joint Interrogation Centre (JIC) in Bhuj since being arrested in 2009 without valid travel documents.

Kamran’s body was taken to the Guru Gobind Singh Government General Hospital for a forensic post-mortem. Eight months later, when his identity as a Pakistani could still not be verified, the authorities gave the green signal for the last rites to take place. Volunteers of a nonprofit buried him in a graveyard in Jamnagar city on August 27, 2021 according to Muslim rites.

Not criminals

“These men were not criminals or terrorists. Small errors on their part and hostilities between their nations cost them their lives,” says Jatin Desai. “Yet, not even a fraction of the concern and outpouring of emotion for the deaths of brave jawans (soldiers) is extended to them. There is no uproar, no debate.”

This may have something to do with “their low economic status, semi-literacy, and invisibility to the public in both countries”.

Prisoner lists between both countries are exchanged annually on the first of January and July. The prisoner lists of January 2021 shoed 340 Pakistani prisoners in India, including 263 civilians and 77 fishermen, and 319 Indian prisoners in Pakistan, including 49 civilians and 270 fishermen.

The July lists showed 271 civilian prisoners and 74 fishermen “believed to be Pakistani” in India, and 51 civilian prisoners and 558 fishermen “believed to be Indian” in Pakistan.

India has so far confirmed the nationality of 376. However, they remain in prison. Given technological advances, “it won’t take more than a day for the Indian consulate to establish the nationality of fishermen lodged in Pakistani jail if they choose”, says Desai.

Families of such prisoners on either side struggle economically and emotionally in the absence of their main breadwinners.

Heera Savra’s husband, an Indian fisherman, has been in Pakistani custody since their son was just five months old. Now four years old, the boy has no memories of his father, reports the Times of India. “Many women from the entire coastal area of Saurashtra – Gir Somnath, Porbandar, Junagadh, Devbhumi Dwarka, Jamnagar districts – have the same heart-breaking tales to tell,” the newspaper reports.

The day Amir Hamza’s body was repatriated to Pakistan, Indian coastguards apprehended another Pakistani fishing boat “Allah Pawawakal” with 12 crew members in Indian waters. The pattern has been repeated for years now – fishermen on either side are basically “prisoners of poor policies… Arrest, release, repeat”.

Indian coastguards arrest crew members of Pakistani fishing boat, “Allah Pawawakal”. Photo: By arrangement

India and Pakistan’s toxic official relations continue to take a human toll and hold South Asia hostage even as the region deals with the crisis of climate change which includes fish migration patterns.

Something for the policymakers meeting in Glasgow to consider?

Beena Sarwar is a journalist covering issues of peace, media, gender. This article was produced for Sapan News Service.

The Tragedy and Tenacity of the Farmers at Tikri Border

After three women farmers were killed by a speeding truck near the protest site, the mood is sombre. This is a community that has been forged in the crucible of pain and common cause.

The last few days have been difficult for the farmers protesting the three farm laws at the Tikri border. (To be fair, every day over the past 11 months has been difficult for them, but this past week has been particularly trying.)

In the early morning hours of October 28, a truck ran over seven women farmers and a child at Bahadurgarh near Tikri. They were on their way back to their village in Mansa district in Punjab after having spent time at the protest. Two women died on the spot, and one shortly thereafter. The rest have been admitted to hospitals nearby. The driver has been on the run.

The mood at the protest site, normally feisty and energetic, has taken on a sombre hue. Hundreds of men and women are sitting on a long green carpet in front of the main stage and listening to kirtans and short eulogies by the speakers. Their faces are impassive. Occasionally, a farmer in the audience breaks down and cries. Someone places a hand on that person’s shoulder and keeps it there till the tears have stopped.

One of the older women sitting near the stage tells me in Punjabi, “Each new death reminds us of the others who have died here.” This is a community that has been forged in the crucible of pain and common cause.

Sumit Chikara, a farmer from Jhajjar who has been at Tikri since November 26, 2020, points out, “Have you seen how fire purifies a precious metal? Or how storms toughen tress? That’s us. We have been through so much this past year, we are now ready for anything.”

Like many others at the site, Chikara, too, is not sure whether the death of the women that morning was an accident or murder. The memories of Lakhimpur Kheri are still fresh. “A thorough investigation will give us answers,” he says, “but one thing is clear. This tragedy will not have the effect the government wants it to have on us. It will not weaken our resolve or scare us off. The corporates and the government are looking at us like we are fish to be caught. They are trying to figure out how to trap us. We may look weak to them but they don’t realise that in our unity is our strength.”

He pauses for a long minute and says, “Have you ever heard the saying that God is with those who speak the truth? We have been speaking the truth. God will help us win.”

Sant Singh, Beant Kaur and Sukhbir Kaur have come together to Tikri from their village in Faridkot district in Punjab. Sant Singh says he and his family will observe a black Diwali in memory of those who were killed. I ask him how he is keeping his spirits up at this time. “Haunsle hamaare kam nahi honge (Our courage will not wane).” He also wonders why the government is forcing the farm laws on them. “Yeh sarkar goongi our behri ho chuki hai. Isse hamari avaaz sunai nahi deti (This government can’t hear our voice anymore).”

Beant Kaur, a farmer leader, tells me something that brings a lump to my throat. “We have told our children that if we die during this protest, it is their responsibility to come here and take our place.” Beant is only in her mid-30s.

Sukhbir Kaur, the oldest of the three, is not just sad, she is furious! The women who were crushed to death were poor farmers with small plots of land and mountains of debt. “This is a tragedy”, she says, her voice quivering with anger. ”Everyone needs to come to Delhi’s borders and bring Modi’s government to its knees!”

I tell her I couldn’t agree more.

Farmers at the Tikri border. Photo: Rohit Kumar

Shakespeare’s aphorism, “When troubles come, they come in troops” certainly seems to apply to the people at Tikri. Barely 36 hours after the first tragedy, urgent shouts wake up people in the middle of the night. The police have started dismantling — at midnight — the huge concrete roadblocks that they had put on Rohtak road back in November 2020. The farmers are alarmed. Why are they doing this now? This was supposed to happen the following morning at 10 am, in broad daylight, in consultation with both the farmer leaders and the government administration.

Navkiran Natt, an activist from Mansa district in Punjab explains to me, “We didn’t block this road. The government and the police did! We certainly don’t want to inconvenience anyone, but if suddenly one side of the highway is opened, and buses and trucks start speeding through while we are still living on the sides of the road, how many more lives will be lost, whether by accident or by homicide?” In an obvious reference to Lakhimpur, she adds, “Because we all know how much the people in power enjoy running over farmers in their vehicles.”

The farmers quickly gather and tell the police to put their regular portable barriers on the road and not let traffic through till such a time as a solution acceptable to all parties has been found. Seeing the large numbers of farmers gathering, the police comply.

By the middle of the next day, thankfully, a compromise is reached. Two lanes are opened for pedestrians and two-wheelers. The rest will be figured out shortly. Balbir Singh Rajewal, one of the senior leaders of the Samyukta Kisan Morcha, does a Facebook Live and exhorts the farmers to stay calm and disciplined and assures them that a solution to the problem will be worked out very soon.

As I head back from Tikri, I see crowds of people milling about in marketplaces at various spots in Delhi, buying sweets and doing their Diwali shopping.

None of them has any idea what the farmers at Tikri border have just been through.

Rohit Kumar is an educator with a background in positive psychology and psychometrics. He works with high school students on emotional intelligence and adolescent issues to help make schools bullying-free zones. He can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.