The India-based group of dissidents had asked for permission to hold a peaceful protest of around 200 individuals at Jantar Mantar on Saturday to express their condemnation of the ‘barbaric act’.
New Delhi: A planned protest by Myanmarese dissidents against the execution of four pro-democracy activists by the military Junta was cancelled after Delhi Police did not permit it at the eleventh hour on Saturday, the organisers said.
The group, CRPH-NUG India support group, had applied to Delhi Police on Wednesday to hold a demonstration against the executions by the Junta, the first judicial killings in Myanmar in decades. The Myanmar government had announced that four prominent activists had been executed for accused of helping insurgents to fight the army that had seized power from the civilian government in a coup in February 2021.
Thousands of Myanmar nationals fled the brutal military crackdown and travelled into India, mainly across the mountainous border of the state of Mizoram. Living in exile, many of them have tried to keep alive their resistance by forming a group to increase awareness about the Junta’s human rights violations and urging the Indian government to take a more robust position against the Myanmar government.
As reflected by its name, it is aligned with the National Unity Government (NUG), the shadow government formed by ousted lawmakers known as the CRPH.
After the execution of the four activists led to a new wave of international criticism and protests within Myanmar, the India-based group of dissidents asked for permission to hold a peaceful protest of around 200 individuals at Jantar Mantar on Saturday late afternoon, to express their condemnation of the “barbaric act”.
“On Wednesday, we went to the police and asked for permission… I got a call on Friday from their office, asking how many were coming… I got further calls early on Saturday morning asking about the protest. Not one of the callers said that permission had not been granted,” general secretary, CRPH-NUG India support group, William San told The Wire.
When the hired bus was ready to go to the protest venue, they learnt that police had not given any permission. “I was told that we cannot hold any demonstration. When I pressed them for a reason, the policeman said that they did not have any authority to tell me the reasons not to protest,” said San, who left Myanmar seven months ago.
He was later asked to collect the letter from Delhi Police, dated July 30, which stated that permission had not been granted “in view of security/law and order/traffic reasons”. “I was also asked to submit a signed letter that we will not hold any demonstration on Saturday,” said San.
With the permission not granted at the last minute, the group had also made preparations for their members to gather from all parts of Delhi. Unable to hold a formal protest, they just posed with their placards for photos at a park.
It had been surprising for the group not to get any permission as they had previously organised a protest after an official green light in February this year. “We had held a protest on February 22 to motivate our people and also to ask India’s help in the restoration of democracy,” said another senior office-bearer of the group. He did not want to be identified with his real name to avoid putting his family members living in Myanmar in danger.
For San and other group members, the lack of approval was disappointing as they had hoped to bring more attention to the critical situation inside Myanmar. A poem published on their Facebook page expressed their anguish, comparing India’s actions to that of kicking a person who has already been trampled to the ground.
After the February 1 coup, India expressed “deep concern” and called for a democratic transition in Myanmar. However, New Delhi had also taken a more muted stance compared to western countries, worried about the security situation in the adjoining north-eastern states and keeping open channels of outreach with the Junta.
India was also worried about China’s presence, which has used its diplomatic clout to shield Myanmar from widespread international censure.
In June last year, India abstained on a UNGA resolution on Myanmar on the grounds that it did not “aid efforts towards strengthening democratic process”. By then, India had also put its weight behind the regional bloc ASEAN’s peace efforts based on the Five Point Consensus.
However, ASEAN, of which Myanmar is a member, has also become disenchanted with the Junta’s lack of progress in implementing the roadmap toward political stability and democracy.
After the announcement of the executions of democracy activists, the ASEAN chairman, Cambodia, denounced them as “highly reprehensible” on July 26. Cambodia also described the Junta’s actions as demonstrating a “gross lack of will” to support the implantation of ASEAN’s five-point consensus peace plan.
Two days later, India reacted to the executions, noting the developments with “deep concern”. Stating that the rule of law and democratic process must be upheld, the MEA spokesperson said, “As a friend of the people of Myanmar, we will continue to support Myanmar’s return to democracy and stability”.
The categories of Mulki and non-Mulki began to appear on the Hyderabadi political scene from the mid-19th century onwards as a response to the influx of Urdu-speaking North Indians being recruited into the state administration.
The series ‘Many Worlds of the Deccan’ explores cultural histories and changing social relations in the Deccan region. It challenges north-centric, monolithic ways of understanding India. The series is curated by The Khidki collective, a group of scholars committed to building public dialogue on history, politics and culture.
Illustration: Pariplab Chakraborty
With the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) trying to make inroads into the electoral landscape of Telangana, derogatory references to the Nizams of the Asaf Jahi dynasty abound. The character assassinations had reached such a crescendo that a great-grandson of Osman Ali Khan, the last Nizam of Hyderabad-Deccan, had to write to the prime minister and the Election Commission in 2021 asking that his ancestor’s name not be publicly flogged.
Elsewhere in Marathwada and Hyderabad-Karnataka, which were two other constituent regions of erstwhile Hyderabad-Deccan, changes in names of places associated with the Muslim rule of the Deccan have taken place. Aurangabad is now Sambhaji Nagar, Osmanabad is Dharashiv and Hyderabad-Karnataka is Kalyana Karnataka. Put together, these moves are, unsurprisingly, meant to erase public memories of the Deccan’s Muslim histories.
Considering how easily we are given to see India’s history only through the framework of a Hindu-Muslim binary, or of a ‘Muslim invasion’ now, it may surprise us to know that this hasn’t always been the case. In fact, given that India was a ‘composite’ entity – i.e. composed of regions – there have been efforts to reimagine a history of India in the plural: as ‘histories of India’, carved around regions, and not only religious hostilities. Not many of these experiments lasted long enough to impact popular histories. But at a time of widespread public amnesia, recollections of even aborted endeavours become vital.
A composite Deccan
One such experiment was afoot in 1940s Hyderabad Deccan. The idea of writing histories of Deccan was beginning to gain traction and was being supported by the Asaf Jahi state. This was part of a larger effort by the state in this period to produce knowledge which centered the Deccan region as against North Indian-dominated histories and visions of India. Knowledge was also to be produced in the vernacular as against English. (Some of these efforts, particularly the role of India’s first vernacular university, i.e. the Osmania University have been meticulously documented and brilliantly analysed by the late scholar Kavita Saraswathi Datla in The Language of Secular Islam: Urdu Nationalism and Colonial India).
Osmania University Vice Chancellor Nawab Ali Yawar Jung Bahadur: Courtesy: Mohd Safiullah
So how was the Deccan being imagined in this period? In his speech at the Indian History Congress organised in 1942 in Hyderabad, Osmania University vice-chancellor Nawab Ali Yawar Jung Bahadur laid out this picture of the Deccan as a ‘shared heritage’:
‘In its associations with the great scenes of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, in its having been the abode of the earliest writers of Maharashtra and the great poets of the language of Kannada, in its expression in colour and its symbolism in form on the rocks of Ajanta and Ellora, and again, in its noble ruins of the Madrasah of Mahmud Gawan at Bidar and the library of Malik Amber at Aurangabad, in the great dams of recent times constructed to contain reserves of water for the peasant…in all these and many more we have common objects of pride and the resulting heritage belongs to one and all of us equally…’
In this period of the 1940s, to offer this composite idea of the Deccan was to challenge the communal and unforgiving characterisation of Hyderabad-Deccan as a ‘feudal, Islamic state’. But such history-writing was not merely an instrument towards legitimising the Asaf Jahi state. The attempt was to make a case for the history of the Deccan as belonging to a pantheon constituting India’s histories.
For example, in the first Deccan History Conference in 1945, the Deccan was described as “the core of India.” A study of the region was framed as “a study in the miniature of the history of India itself, of different races and cultures.” But, importantly, studying the Deccan was not to create a regional nationalism to stand against an Indian nationalism. It was not to “inculcate parochialism” and “raise mud walls” around the region. It was meant to move towards a “more proper, deeper integration of the history of the Deccan with the history of India. It was, in a way, to find India within the Deccan.
Some of these new framings of the Deccan’s histories can be seen in how they were narrated in official documents. Even though such narratives followed the framework of dynastic histories, attempts at asserting indigenity shone through. For instance, a long overview of the history of modern Hyderabad-Deccan began with the indigenous Andhra race in 3rd century B.C. It encompassed the establishment of Buddhist religion in the Deccan with the Salankayana dynasty, Buddhism’s subsequent decline with the rise of a militant Brahmanism, the characterisation of Rashtrakutas as the “first Deccani imperial power,” a description of the rise of the Bahamani kingdom, and how they assimilated themselves to the region and its traditions such that their patriotism was likely the first articulation of Deccani nationalism.
What is remarkable is that these brief dynastic histories do not attribute Hindu or Muslim religious or political identities to the dynasties. Rather, they emphasise a Deccan versus Delhi contestation. But even these contestations are not cast within a native versus foreigner cliché. Instead, the Deccan is presented as a place of such great allure that over time, even “invaders from the north” have come to feel such a strong sense of belonging that they began to consider themselves Deccani.
Speaking of this rootedness that marked being a Hyderabadi or Deccani, Ali Yawar Jung Bahudar stated, “It has led to the age-long consciousness of an entity and to an instinct to defend it against external interference which found its personification in Chand Bibi and Malik Amber…What has now become known as Mulki or Deccani sentiment is in essence our pride in our past and our determination to defend and strengthen ourselves by our own exertions.”
This experiment of inserting Deccan into histories of India may have faded away with the fall of Hyderabad-Deccan in 1948. But is there still a Deccani identity, distinct from the linguistic identities that dominate and divide the region into Marathi, Kannada, Telugu? Or has the extinction of the state meant that the Deccani now exists only as nostalgic invocations among the Hyderabadi diaspora?
The arrival of the linguistic states of Karnataka, Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh, in the late 1950s, meant that state patronage of history-writing focussed on creating narratives of glory of the Kannada, Marathi and Telugu nations. Gazetteers and state-sponsored books started to speak of the eternal histories of these linguistic nations, focussing considerably on ‘Hindu’ empires and ‘Muslim invasions’. Deccan and Deccani were lost from official and historical view.
But forms of Deccani still ring in the lives of people from the region. Certainly, they exist in migration and linguistic lives of the people, as this essay shows. They also exist, albeit in mutated forms, in the developmental politics of the regions that were once part of the erstwhile Hyderabad-Deccan state.
Karnataka map. Source: Report of the Fact Finding Committee (States Reorganisation), Government of Mysore, 1954
One such instance is the movement from the 1990s in the Hyderabad-Karnataka region for ‘special status’. Located in the north-eastern part of Karnataka state, Hyderabad-Karnataka has been severely neglected by successive governments ruling from Bengaluru. The movement for ‘special status’ was actually for the promulgation of Article 371(J) in the Indian Constitution which would mandate allocation of funds for the development of the region and accord reservation in state government for people from the region. In support of their demand for special status, activists not only cited the ‘underdevelopment’ of the region but also to the Mulki rules that had been in force in the Hyderabad-Deccan state.
What were the Mulki rules? The categories of Mulki and non-Mulki began to appear on the Hyderabadi political scene from the mid-19th century onwards as a response to the influx of Urdu-speaking North Indians being recruited into the state administration. The Mulkis represented the indigenous elite, composed of both Hindus and Muslims, who demanded a greater representation within the state and economy on the basis of their Deccani indigeneity (and not on the basis of their religion). The Asaf Jahi state brought in the Mulki rules to ensure that Hyderabadis receive adequate representation in state education and employment.
In the negotiations leading up to the formation of linguistic states, people from Marathwada and Telangana were guaranteed special consideration in Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh due to the Mulki rules. This, however, did not happen in Hyderabad-Karnataka.
In an interview I did with Razak Ustad, a well-known activist from Hyderabad-Karnataka, in late 2017, he pointed out: “It is only in 1997 that we began to realise that Mulki rules are applied in Telangana and Marathwada and so should be applied to us. Actually, the rule is that Mulki rules should continue till the time Parliament repeals them. As on today, it has not yet been removed. When we joined Mysore state in 1956, it should have been followed…The state government has… snatched it from us unconstitutionally.”
Eventually, Hyderabad-Karnataka was granted special status in 2013, recognising not only its state of neglect within Karnataka but also in recognition of the legal tradition of nativity that has prevailed in the region for over a century.
The hopes and visions of the history-writing efforts around the Deccan region in the 1940s in Asaf Jahi state may have fallen by the wayside in the Indian Union’s relentless march towards development. But it is worthwhile to remember that Deccani indigeneity, which was accorded state recognition through the Mulki rules, continues to persist in the developmental, linguistic state, even if in unrecognisable forms.
Swathi Shivanand is a member of the Khidki Collective. Her PhD from JNU was on the 20th century history of development in Hyderabad-Karnataka. She is currently researching the history of the garment industry in Bengaluru at the Alternative Law Forum.
Arora will succeed Rakesh Asthana, a Gujarat-cadre IPS officer.
New Delhi: Sanjay Arora, a Tamil Nadu-cadre IPS officer, currently serving as Director General of the ITBP, was on July 31 appointed the Commissioner of Delhi Police.
Arora will succeed Rakesh Asthana, a Gujarat-cadre IPS officer.
According to an official order, the competent authority has approved the inter-cadre deputation of Arora to the Arunachal Pradesh, Goa, Mizoram and Union Territories (AGMUT) cadre, whose officers serve in the Delhi Police.
Arora, a 1988-batch IPS officer, will take charge on Monday and will continue till further order.
He has served as the SP of the Tamil Nadu Police STF that chased forest brigand Veerappan and he was awarded the chief minister’s gallantry medal for bravery during this stint.
This is for the third time in recent history that an officer from outside AGMUT cadre has been brought to head the national capital’s police force.
Asthana, a 1984-batch IPS officer, was appointed as Delhi’s police commissioner in July 2021 while Ajay Raj Sharma, a 1966-batch Uttar Pradesh-cadre IPS officer, was appointed head of the Delhi Police in 1999.
Arora was appointed Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP) DG in August last year and he has tenure in service till July 2025.
He served as Coimbatore police commissioner between 2002 and 2004 and has also served in the CRPF and the BSF. He holds a B Tech degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering.
In a separate order, the home ministry said his tenure as DG ITBP has been curtailed and his inter-cadre deputation from the Tamil Nadu cadre to the AGMUT cadre will begin from the date of joining the AGMUT cadre and up to his date of superannuation i.e. up to July 31, 2025, or until further orders, whichever is earlier, in relaxation of inter-cadre deputation guidelines.
In yet another order, the home ministry said Director General of the SSB, S L Thaosen, a 1988-batch IPS officer of Madhya Pradesh, will hold additional charge of DG, ITBP till further order.
Apple growers have been protesting against the state government for hiking taxes on packaging material and fertilisers, and ‘exploitation’ by traders.
Chandigarh: Apple growers, who play a vital role in the Himachal economy and also have a considerable political influence in at least 18-20 constituencies in the Shimla region, have become a bone of contention for the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) ahead of the assembly polls in November.
Rising input costs have led to a massive drop in their income. For this, they have blamed the government for hiking taxes and ‘exploitation’ by traders.
Besides, heat wave and drought conditions this year have also damaged their crop, thereby fetching them far less rates in the open market due to stunting in the apple size and open cracks.
These factors have pushed them to protest against the BJP-ruled state government.
It started with a protest in Rohru in Shimla district on July 11.
A protest by apple growers in Rohru, Shimla, on July 11. Photo: Author provided
On July 28, chief minister Jai Ram Thakur met with the Sanyukt Kisan Manch in Shimla and decided to constitute a committee to find solutions to their grievances.
Despite Thakur’s announcement, the apple growers decided not to cancel their scheduled gherao of the Himachal Secretariat in Shimla on August 5 over their key demands.
Several organisations have criticised the Thakur government for doing “too little, too late” as they felt that the new committee would not be able to provide any immediate financial relief to the growers.
Meanwhile, some apple growers have claimed that the state horticulture minister Mahender Singh did very little to help them.
Dimple Panjta, president of The Himalayan Society For Horticulture and Agriculture Development, a Rohru-based NGO consisting of a large number of apple growers, told The Wire that in the last four and half years of BJP rule, the horticulture department hardly took any constructive steps to help the growers.
“By the time the new committee would give its recommendations, the current apple season would already be over,” he said.
He asked, “Why the government was not proactive to look into the issues concerning Himachal Pradesh’s apple industry. Why does the government only wake up when people start protesting.”
Lokinder Bisht, who is the president of Himachal Progressive Growers Association, told The Wire that the apple industry in Himachal Pradesh is fragile, as it is highly influenced by market forces.
Bisht said in the last two years, the input cost of apple growers has almost doubled but the income level has not gone up at the same pace. In economics, there is a term called the law of diminishing returns, which applies to a phenomenon when investment in a particular area increases, but the rate of profit from that investment cannot continue to increase.
“This is precisely what we are facing today. Part of the problem is government policies and a lack of regulation,” he said.
He added that packaging material like cartons, trays and machinery equipment used in the apple industry should be kept in the lowest bracket of the goods and services tax (GST). However, the Union government hiked the GST on packaging material from 12% to 18%.
The hike was announced in October last year, but its impact was felt this year when market forces increased the rate of cartons, trays and other packaging material used in the apple industry. Apart from this, GST on fertiliser pesticide and fungicide was also hiked to 18%.
Bisht said that the state government recently announced a 6% subsidy on the purchase of cartons from the Himachal Pradesh Horticulture Produce Marketing and Processing Corporation (HPMC) from July 15. This was done to compensate for the 6% increase in the GST rate on cartons, he said.
But the irony is that carton rates of HPMC even after the 6% subsidy waiver is higher than open market rates.
Moreover, most of the growers have already bought the packaging material and many have placed orders from where they usually buy, he added.
“On the contrary, apple growers are not fetching proper rates for their produce. Every year the market opens with good prices, especially for premium varieties of apples. We have already witnessed the slump in the beginning of the season,” he said.
Ashutosh Rana, a member of the Sanyukt Kisan Manch, blamed it on the lack of regulated policies. The state government has no minimum support price-based procurement system. The state agencies buy only C-grade apples to make jams or apple juice. They offer just Rs 10 per kilogram. However, a grower spends around Rs 30-32 to grow one kilogram of apples.
Moreover, the rates of fertilisers or agriculture equipment by state market agencies like HPMC are much higher than market price.
“We want to ask the state government if the state marketing agencies are meant for the welfare of apple growers or are they money making machines. Earning profit at the peril of growers is unacceptable to all of us,” he added.
Added to climate change, apple growers are also facing unfavourable government policies. They want government support on their key demands, otherwise they will have a tough time in near future, he added.
The Sanyukt Kisan Manch has submitted a memorandum to the chief minister which mentioned as many as 20 demands in detail.
Among the key demands is the waiver of the GST on packaging material like wooden cartons and trays used in the apple industry. Besides, it has asked the government to introduce an MSP for all A, B and C level varieties of apple to regulate the market.
Last year, there was a huge uproar among apple growers when Adani farms, who is the biggest purchaser of apples in Himachal Pradesh’s mandis, announced much lower prices of the premium apple varieties, thereby disturbing the entire market.
Their other demands included an increase in the import duty of apples coming from Iran and other foreign countries. They claimed the import of apples has eaten into the profit margin of local growers.
They also sought subsidies from the state on the purchase of agriculture equipment, fertilisers, etc. in order to bring down their increasing input cost.
The Sanyukt Kisan Manch has also asked the state to constitute a horticulture board for the welfare of horticulturists. The chief minister has assured the growers that the government would consider this demand.
They have also asked the state to waive off collection of taxes or charges levied on the apple growers at various barriers.
Why is it important for the BJP to pacify apple growers
Apple growers of Himachal Pradesh have a considerable influence in districts like Kinnaur, Shimla, Sirmaur, Solan, Kullu and even parts of Chamba.
Therefore, the saffron party needs to pacify the growers at the earliest before their protests spoil the BJP’s chances of making a comeback in the state. This is important because no political party in Himachal Pradesh has won the polls for the second time since 1985.
Odds are already stacked against the Thakur government over a number of issues, including allegations of non-performance and factionalism. The protest by the apple growers have now added to their troubles.
Meanwhile, the Congress has attacked the BJP for ignoring the apple growers since the party formed the government five years ago.
Congress leader of opposition Mukesh Agnihotri told The Wire that the current BJP government has failed to provide welfare schemes to apple growers. Last time when Prime Minister Narendra Modi had come here, he had promised that his government will especially focus on the apple growers; however, their issues remain unresolved to this date.
“Growers have always benefited from the Congress government policies. We are again duty bound to ensure that once we form the government here, all their issues will be sorted out. We will officially release our blueprint for the welfare of apple growers and other horticulturists before the election,” he said.
In the Rig Veda, ‘grhapatnī’ and ‘grhapati’ are co-eval. The ‘lordship’ or ‘ladyship’ is a relation, jointly, of custodianship, of ‘ruling the household’. If grhapati and grhapatni can be used to signify equal forms of sovereign power within the household, why can rashtrapati and rashtrapatnī not do the same in relation to the state?
In a rapidly ascending tone of voice, Smriti Irani, leading light of the parliamentary BJP and Minister for Women and Child Development as well as Minority Affairs, demanded an apology from her fellow MP and Congress leader, Sonia Gandhi, nine times – once in English, and eight times in Hindi (I counted) – on the morning of July 27, 2022. These demands were made from the floor of the parliament, in the space of just two minutes and 50 seconds.
The last ‘maafi maango’, (literally ’plead to be forgiven’) was enunciated with such force that Irani lost her voice as she stumbled on the ultimate ‘maango’ of this crescendo. It was exhaled more than it was voiced, just before the speaker of the Lok Sabha adjourned the house. It was quite a performance; sterling proof, if any was ever required, of Madam Minister’s vocal range and respiratory prowess. And of her cultivated ability to waste the parliament’s (and thereby, the taxpayer’s) time.
As a postscript to this histrionic episode, Gandhi walked across to speak to a senior BJP leader, Rama Devi. She was then accosted by BJP parliamentarians, and surrounded, as per TMC MP Mahua Moitra’s eyewitness account, in a manner reminiscent of ‘hyenas and pack-wolves’ encircling their prey. Irani tried to intervene, and was rebuffed, politely, by Gandhi.
Irani’s demand for an apology was triggered by a video of Congress MP Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury, who had referred to the newly-elected President of India, Draupadi Murmu, as ‘Rashtrapatnī’ while answering a question put to him by a journalist, Ankit Gupta of ABP News, on July 27 – during a protest organised by opposition leaders in New Delhi.
Earlier, Congress members, including Chowdhury, had been intent on proceeding up to the president’s residence atop Raisina Hill to let her know what they thought about not being able to place their demands for a discussion in parliament on rising prices and the imposition of GST on essential food items like curd and puffed rice.
As it happens, they were not allowed to walk up Raisina Hill to meet the recently-elected president. Sometime after this, an intrepid reporter asked Chowdhury why they had assembled, and what they were protesting about. In replying to him, Adhir Chowdhury used the word rasthrapati twice, and once, rashtrapatnī, as the addressee of their petition.
And then, all hell broke loose.
‘How can the president of the republic be called rashtrapatni, the wife of the state’?
‘Was this not an insult to women, to India, to Adivasis’?
The allegation levelled by Smriti Irani implied that Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury’s use of the term ‘rashtrapatni’ carried with it the endorsement of Sonia Gandhi. And that is why she must apologise nine times.
And so on.
It’s a difficult objection to understand. Because it it not immediately clear as to where the insult lies, but it seems to hover around the suffix ‘patnī’ added to the term ‘rashtra’.
Is the state insulted if a woman, and specifically, an Adivasi woman, is referred to as its wife (rashtra-patnī), as Irani and her party colleague seem to suggest, in a way that it is not, if a man is referred to as its husband (Rashtra-Pati)?
And if that is the case, how can the woman too be insulted if she is referred to as the spouse of the state? How can the target of the insult (the state) and the bearer of the insult (spouse/wife) both be insulted in the same instant? It is possible that Madam Minister Irani understands the intricacies of this labyrinth of alleged insult hurled and offense taken, but I don’t.
The utterances of Irani’s boss, the prime minister himself, are not known for the respect they bear for women colleagues. Modi once famously uttered a patronising comment on the prime minister of Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina, saying, “…it is heartening that the Prime Minister of Bangladesh, despite the fact that she is a woman, is openly saying that she has zero tolerance for terrorism.”
The words ‘despite the fact that she is a woman’ clearly implied that he thought that it was unnatural, normally, for a woman politician to have the capacity to be tough in response to terrorism. This is symptomatic of the unreflective disrespect that Modi has for women in positions of power. And yet, neither he, nor his colleague, Irani, ever thought an apology for this remark to be obligatory, or even necessary.
As it happens, Chowdhury has now apologised for his ‘rashtra-patnī’ comment (though I don’t see why he had to, and that is what I am going to talk about in this article) and explained away his ‘slip of tongue’ as being caused by the difficulties that any Bengali faces when speaking in the alien, and highly gendered Hindi language.
Being a native Bengali speaker myself (albeit born and raised in the heartland of Khari Boli Hindi and refugee Punjabi in West Delhi) I can sympathise with Chowdhury’s predicament somewhat.
The ruthless and relentless inflection of everything in the Hindi language, especially verb endings, along gender lines, leaves any native speaker of the gender-agnostic Bengali language uneasy and bewildered. For life.
Not only do we Bengalis never get Hindi verb endings right, (as listening to any recorded, and impromptu utterance in Hindi of the former rashtrapati, Pranab Mukherjee, would reveal) we also sometimes carry our habitual transgendering of verbs even onto nouns. We turn ‘Malkins’ into ‘Maliks’ and ‘Patis’ into ‘Patnis’, even though nothing says that anyone has to ever change anything, least of all gender, when dealing with a noun.
Why do we do this? Because, being hyperaware of the fact that Hindi is a highly-gendered language, and self-aware to a fault about our grammatical incapacity for handling gendered speech, we insert gender even when we don’t have to, as a form of overcompensation. Hence, Chowdhury’s reference to ‘rashtrapatnī’ is the kind of mistake that any uncle of mine would have made.
This leads to much hilarity amongst Hindi-speaking folk, and occasionally, as in parliament the other day, to rage. Who can ever stop sniggering at my compatriots’ invariably contextually inappropriate usage of ‘karta hai’ and ‘khati hai’? I try to avoid it as much as I can, but when I am tired, my inner gender fluid Bengali sometimes wins over my outer West Delhi gender apartheid enforcer. And I use the wrong verb ending, or a garbled noun, and bite my slipping tongue.
Indeed, rashtra-pati and rashtra-patnī are not verb endings. They are compound-nouns, of the kind that makes Sanskrit (the source of these two words, in all Indic vocabularies) a notoriously complex language capable of an exceptionally high degree of precision. It means that you just slap nouns on to each other to make seemingly endless combinations of increasing semantic precision.
‘Rashtra’ means state, that is obvious. But ‘pati’ and ‘patnī’ (and it is the confusion between these two words that caused Smriti Irani’s blood pressure to rise in parliament) can mean more than one thing. Which we will come to in a moment.
In Hindi, the word ‘pati’, still retains its polysemy. ’Pati’ can mean, lord (‘bhupati’ – lord of the land), master (‘sabhapati’ – master of the gathering), chief (‘senapati’ – head of an armed force, general) or even possessor/owner – (‘nripati’ – king – owner of subjects, or ‘punjipati’ – capitalist, owner of capital).
Of course, in Hindi, it also means ‘husband’, which denotes, traditionally, the possession that a man has over his spouse, once he marries her. In that sense, rashtrapati, can mean lord of the state, possessor of the state, master of the state. That is why, in many Indian languages, a synonym for pati, the husband, is swami, the lord and master. But still, which sense of pati is in play depends on who is speaking about what, or whom. Pati can mean what you want it to mean.
But ‘patnī’ doesn’t. At least not in Hindi. In Hindi, ‘patnī’, has just come to mean ‘wife’, it has lost the sense of sovereign mastery that ‘pati’ retains in Sanskrit. And being the perfectly patriarchal (and caste inflected) language that Hindi is, a ‘wife’ can conventionally never be seen to be as equal to a ‘husband’. So if ‘rashtra-pati’ can mean the ‘lord of the state’ or ‘chief of the state’, the word ‘rashtra-patnī’ can only mean ‘the wife of the state’. If rashtra-pati, in Hindi somehow gives off an air of superiority and grandeur, rashtra-patnī, in Hindi, must do the opposite. It must snigger and snark and scowl. Because for some Hindi speakers, conditioned by the ‘sense’ of their language, wives can never be equal to husbands. Rashtrapati is honorific, rashtrapatnī is innuendo.
But must we be burdened forever by the inability of Hindi speakers to develop their language in the direction of greater gender equality? And can minister Smriti Irani, being half Bengali herself (on her mother’s side), not find it in herself to at least have a sense of humour, if not compassion, for a Bengali parliamentarian’s slip of the tongue, which, even if ‘odd’ to the Hindi speaking ear, is perfectly logical and consistent with which how compound words form in Sanskrit, and how they carry over into Bengali?
The Vedic patni was not just a ‘wife’
In Sanskrit, the word ‘patnī’ doesn’t just mean ‘wife’. There is a specific word for ‘wife’ and that is ‘bhāryā’. But ‘patnī’ wasn’t just wife for a long time. ‘Patnī’ can also mean an eminent person of the female gender, a ‘lady’. a ‘mistress’ (feminine of ‘master’, not, in this instance, the ‘unmarried female romantic or sexual partner of a married man’). We get a clear sense of this in the famous and beautiful ‘Hymn to Dawn’ in the Rig Veda. It is as follows :
‘Like one letting the reins go slack, bounteous Dawn drives, mistress of good pasture Generating the sun, she of good portion and wondrous power stretches all the way to end of heaven and earth’
Here, ‘patnī’ is only a qualifier that tells us that Dawn/Usha is a lady, a ‘mistress of the good pasture’, or encampment, (svasarasya patnī) not who’s wife she is. ‘Patnī’, here is honorific, just as ‘lady’ or ‘khatun’ (in English or Urdu) is not a marker of being property of a man, or even of a relation with a man, with any man.
The people who imagined and spoke the Rig Veda into being had a more generous, imaginative and poetic way of thinking about words than the present custodians of the Hindi language happen to have. They could do a lot more work with words than the contemporary champions of Hindutva can. And that should not come as a surprise.
The Rig Veda is composed before the terms ‘pati’ and ‘patnī’ come to denote the idea that a husband had a proprietorial right over his wife. There are two Vedic hymns to marriage, parts of which are still in use in the liturgy of the Hindu wedding ritual, which feature two slightly different versions of a highly allegorical account of the wedding of Suryā, the daughter of the Sun (Surya) to Soma, the moon. They form part of the ‘पाणिग्रहण’ / ‘panigrahan’(‘hand-holding’) ceremony of the wedding rite.
The text features the words ‘lord of the house’ (grihapati) and the ‘lady of the house’ (grihapatnī). But the words for lady of the house and lord of the house (‘grihapatnī’ and ‘grihapati’) denote no difference in status. They are equal to each other.
‘The prosperous God has clasped thy hand. The all creating God has taken thy hand. By rule and by law thou art my wife, the master of thy house am I ( ‘गृहपतिस्तव’ / ‘grhapatistava’ ).’
The term grhapati, (‘lord of the house’) has its exact feminine equivalent, grhapatni, (‘lady of the house’), which occurs within a very similar pass, this time from the Rig Veda:
‘Let Pūśan lead you from here, having taken you by the hand. Let the Aśvins convey you forth in their chariot. Go to the house, so that you will be mistress of the house ( ‘गृहपत्नी’/ ‘gṛhapatnī’) . Exerting your will you will announce the ceremonial distribution.
This clearly shows that both ‘grhapatnī’ and ‘grhapati’ are co-eval. The ‘lordship’ or ‘ladyship’ is a relation, jointly, of custodianship, of ‘ruling the household’, not a sign denoting the ownership or superiority of one human over another. So if, grhapati and grhapatni can be equally used to signify equal forms of sovereign power within the household, why can rashtrapati and rashtrapatnī not do the same in relation to the state? Even if Adhir Chaudhary had said ‘Rashtra-Patnī’ deliberately, he need not have in any way used it to mean something ‘lesser’ or more demeaning, than ‘Rashtra-Pati’. He need not have apologised.
When ‘pati’ came to be the master/owner of a ‘patnī’
Those who read Sanskrit slowly, haltingly, carefully, like I do, know that the reference to the origin of the custom of wives being the ‘property’ of their husbands occurs, not in the Vedic corpus, but in a conversation between King Pandu, and his wife, Kunti, in the Sambhava Parva of the Mahabharata.
In this conversation, Pandu tells Kunti that the anger of sage Svetaketu – who figures in three Upanishadic episodes and in the Mahabharata, but nowhere in the Vedic corpus – at his mother’s sexual autonomy, and his father Uddhalaka’s indifference to her spending time with other men (as was ‘customary’, according to Uddalka) led him to draw up the rules of marriage. This is where the concept of the masculine possession of women as property so as to ensure their exclusive ‘father-right’ over any children born to the woman emerges. Here lies the perfect intersection of patriarchal control over women’s reproductive agency and sexuality, and the needs for controlling the paternity of heirs to property.
This is how a ‘pati’ came to be the master/owner of a ‘patnī’ and of her progeny. Before Svetaketu, it makes sense to speak of mothers, fathers, partners, consorts, friends, co-custodians but not of husbands who are also masters of their wives and owners of their children.
Irani chooses Svetaketu’s patriarchy over the Vedas
So, when Smriti Irani thinks that the word ‘patnī’ in the term ‘rashtra-Patnī’ is an insult, (which means she is implicating herself as the notional target of the insult, because she too is a married woman) she is tapping into the father lode of proprietorial, possessive, patriarchy, as instituted by Svetaketu, not into the grand and magnificent sense of the word ’patni’ used to describe Usha, the lady of dawn, or even the equal partner of the pati in the Vivaha Suktas of the Rigveda and the Atharvaveda. Anyone who think that rashtra-patnī as an insult cannot but consider wives and women to be chattel.
But let us leave aside this sense of a nuanced meaning for how pati and patnī gloss in Sanskrit. In all fairness, one cannot expect Smriti Irani, to have any understanding of this matter. As far as I know, her stint at Yale, which yielded her now famous ‘certificate’, did not include being enrolled for a course in introductory, intermediate or advanced Sanskrit offered at the South Asia Studies Council of Yale University’s Macmillan Center. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing Sanskrit. Most people don’t. But there is something wrong in a politician deploying her ignorance as a weapon with which to insult and publicly humiliate a senior colleague from the opposition benches. And that too over a non-issue.
If anyone actually needs to apologise, it is Irani.
That said, we might pause, for a moment, to consider that in a contemporary, democratic context, ‘rashtrapati’ is as inelegant a term as ‘rashtrapatnī’ would be. And not for reasons of gender, or of gender relations. It surprises me that no one seems to have minded, or even had half a thought about this, until now. It’s as if it took the flaring nostrils of Smriti Irani to get us to pay any attention to what the term ‘rasthrapati’ actually means. And it isn’t even the right translation, or analogue, for the term ‘president’. A ‘president’ is one who ‘presides’. A rashtrapati, or rashtrapatnī is one who is the master, or mistress, of the state.
That says a lot.
Shared roots of rashtrapati and despot
The condition of having to preside over a circumstance, a state or a situation need not ever be indicative of mastery. That the word ‘pati’ and ‘patni’ in Sanskrit, denote ‘lordship’ or ‘mastery’ of some kind can be seen in the context of how cognates of the word occur in related Indo-European languages that can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European construct ‘poti’ – which glosses as ‘powerful, lord’.
Old Avestan has words like dmana-paiti, which mean exactly what the similar sounding Vedic Sanskrit dam-pati (masters of the house, a conjugal pair) which is still with us today. Ancient Greek has πότνια (pótnia, “lady, mistress”) often used to address goddesses, as well as δεσ-πότης (‘des-potes’, “master, despot, lord, owner”, from which we get the familiar English ‘despot’. It’s the same root that gives us ‘potency’ as well as ‘potential’, suggestive of power and capacity, of some kind of mastery over the present and/or the future state of things.
It is to these senses of the words ‘pati’ and ‘patnī’ that I want to turn to now, because I think it is of relevance to how we imagine and conceive of politics today. The fact that words rashtrapati and despotism have shared roots should give us reason to pause.
Those who think that the term ‘rashtrapatnī’ is insulting (because of how it glosses matrimony) might like to consider how, from the point of view of an ordinary citizen, the term ‘rashtrapati’ is, to put it plainly, contemptuous. And that too of what it means to be a citizen.
The ‘first’ citizen of a democratic republic cannot be the ‘pati’, the ‘lord and master’ of all other citizens of that democratic republic. It hardly matters, from the point of view of the citizen, whether the rashtra has a pati or a patnī, a master or a mistress, as far as she (the citizen) is concerned, the gender of the claimant of the position makes no difference to the fact that in ceremonial, rhetorical terms they are ‘overlords’ or ‘despots’, in relation to her.
What this tells me is that even in ceremonial and rhetorical terms, the democratic instincts of those who imagined the Indian Republic were weak.
Ambedkar on ‘rashtrapati’ vs ‘president’
There was, as it happens, a lively discussion on the exact wording of the title of the Indian head of state in the Constituent Assembly.
This discussion took place in December 1948, at Constitution Hall in New Delhi. The constituent assembly members were debating the language of Article 41 of the draft constitution. Hari Vishnu Kamath, formerly of the Indian Civil Service, latterly of the Forward Bloc, and finally a Congress member of the Constituent Assembly, was well known for lengthy interventions. He had proposed, among other things, that a provision for powers to do with ‘Inter-Planetary Travel’ be placed in the Union List, as opposed to the State of Concurrent Lists of the Constitution.
H.V. Kamath addressing members of the Young Men’s Hindu Association in 1952.
On the morning of December 10, 1948, Kamath took Dr. Ambedkar, the chairman of the drafting committee, to task for the fact that the word ‘rashtrapati’ (in Roman characters), parenthetically attached to the word ‘president’ in the phrase ‘The Head of the Federation shall be the President (Rashtrapati)’ – which had been part of the first and second reports of the proceedings of the Constituent Assembly in August 1947 – had been dropped, and the phrase itself altered to ‘There shall be a President of India’ when it appeared in Article 41 of the draft constitution presented to the Constituent Assembly, in February 1948.
Kamath wanted to know the reason for this deletion, considering, as he noted, that the term ‘rashtrapati’ had been such an intrinsic part of the vocabulary of the Congress party for its own organisational purposes. He wanted to know whether this was due to an allergy to Indian terminology on the part of the members of the drafting committee, or whether it was due to any prejudices against those Congress party members, such as Jawaharlal Nehru, who had been referred to as ‘rashtrapati’ previously within party circles.
Dr. Ambedkar avoided giving wind to the sails of controversy in his reply. His only defence was that the text of the draft constitution presented for consideration to the Constituent Assembly was a technical, English text. We can surmise that this was done as to avoid any ambiguity and misunderstanding arising out of issues of language while the draft was discussed threadbare by the committee.
Dr. Ambedkar’s exact reply was as follows:
“…Now, Sir, this action of the Drafting Committee has nothing to do with any kind of prejudice against the word ‘Rashtrapati’ or against using any Hindi term in the Constitution. The reason why we omitted it is this. We were told that simultaneously with the Drafting Committee, the President of the ConstituentAssembly had appointed another committee, or rather two committees, to draft the constitution in Hindi as well as inHindustani. We, therefore, felt that since there was to be a Draft of the Constitution in Hindi and another in Hindustani, it might be as well that we should leave this word ‘Rashtrapati’ to be adopted by the members of those committees, as the word ‘Rashtrapati’ was not an English term and we were drafting the Constitution in English. Now my friend asked me whether I was not aware of the fact that this term ‘Rashtrapati’ has been in current use for a number of years in the Congress parlance. I know it is quite true and I have read it in many places that this word ‘Rashtrapati’ is used, there is no doubt about it. But whether it has become a technical term, I am not quite sure.Therefore before rising to reply, I just thought of consulting the two Draft Constitutions, one prepared in Hindi and the other prepared in Hindustani. Now, I should like to draw the attention of my friend Mr. Kamath to the language that has been used by these two committees. I am reading from the draft in Hindustani, and it says:
‘Hind ka ek President hoga…..’
The word ‘Rashtrapati’ is not used there.
Then, taking the draft prepared by the Hindi Committee, in article 41 there, the word used is ‘Pradhan’. There is no ‘Rashtrapati’ there either.
…And I am just now informed that in the Urdu Draft, the word used is ‘Sardar’…”
The records of the proceedings of the Constituent Assembly as published indicate that this statement was followed by ‘laughter’. Though what exactly was funny about the word ‘Sardar’ being invoked is left unsaid.
In a couple of years, Article 41 of the draft text of the constitution became Article 51 of the Constitution of India, which describes and outlines the power and responsibilities that come with the position of the President of the Republic. It still opens as,
‘There shall be a President of India’
The Hindi text of the constitution says:
‘Bharat ka ek Rashtrapati hoga’.
The syntax of the Hindi statement has an implicit masculine edge. The verb ending ‘hoga’ leaves no room for ambiguity. Obviously, the tacit misogyny of the Hindi language did manage to find its way back into the language of the constitution. There is not even a glimmer of the word ‘rashtrapatni’ though, as we have shown, there could very easily have been.
The words ‘pradhan’, in the draft Hindi translation, or even the romanised ‘president’ of the draft Hindustani translation, or the ‘sardar’ of the draft Urdu translations must have fallen by the wayside of the highway of the textual evolution of the Constitution of India. I don’t even know if a ‘Hindustani’ as opposed to a ‘Hindi’ translation of the Constitution exists anymore. Finally, it was a ‘rashtrapati’ that ruled, and still rules, the land.
What I can’t help wondering, however, is whether or not Dr. Ambedkar would have been aware of, and sensitive to, the hierarchical sense of ‘mastery’ built into the term rashtrapati. My sense is that he might well have been aware, and therefore was reluctant to have it in the text of the constitution. Of course this is speculation. But I do not think that it is empty speculation, because of the way in which the word ‘rashtrapati’ got dropped when Dr. Ambedkar presented the draft text to the Constituent Assembly.
We know that Dr. Ambedkar was especially sensitive to the meanings of words; he had singlehandedly written a lexicon of Pali, only for himself simply because he wanted to understand terms in Buddhist philosophy with clarity. Such a man would not be indifferent to how the meaning and ‘sense’ of a word can haunt whichever context it appears in. I like to think that he would have preferred an alternative to the ‘rashtrapati’ that we are saddled with till today. it is clear that he did not like ‘lords’ and ‘masters’.
As it happens, Urdu has an even better term for ‘president’ than ‘sardar’ and that is – صدرریاست or sadar-e-riasat – which simply means ‘head of state’. It is objective, neutral and gender neutral – and means exactly what it says, without the implied deference and obsequiousness of lordship or mastery. Maybe the elision of the gifts that Urdu syntax could have offered to our political imagination is just another way in which we are paying for the erosion of Urdu from our cultural landscape.
Contrived anger to serve a purpose
If we go back to the origins of the present controversy in parliament, we will realise that it is because opposition MPs are not being given an opportunity to table their questions about price rise and the imposition of GST on foods vital to the nutritional requirements of the working poor.
The government of the day does not want to have a conversation about hunger and the cost of food. It is during a protest on this issue that the word ‘rashtrapatnī’ emerges and finds its way into public attention. And then Smriti Irani effectively prevents another attempt at discussing the price of food by filibustering the proceedings of parliament with her utterly unnecessary histrionics in response to a fake instance of injured sentiment. The word ‘rashtra-Patnī’ is exactly as objectionable, or not, as the word ‘rashtrapati’ is.
Meanwhile, hunger, and the rising prices of food, continue to find no mention in parliament.
We badly need a new language of, and for, politics in this country today. Each passing day makes that clearer.
Most of these Bills saw “little legislative scrutiny” with about half of the Bills being passed within a day of their introduction, according to a legislative think tank.
New Delhi: State legislative assemblies met for an average of 21 days in 2021 and passed over 500 Bills on a range of subjects including ones on regulating higher education, online gaming, religious conversions and preservation of cattle.
Most of these Bills saw “little legislative scrutiny” with about half of the Bills being passed within a day of their introduction, according to a legislative think tank.
The highest number of 48 Bills were passed by Karnataka last year. In 2020 too, Karnataka had passed the most Bills – 55. The lowest number of bills were passed by Delhi – two, followed by Puducherry (3) and Mizoram (5), according to the ‘Annual Review of State Laws 2021’ brought out by PRS Legislative.
Legislatures have the primary responsibility of making laws. These laws have to be examined in detail and passed after debate and deliberation, the study noted.
“However, state legislatures often pass Bills without adequate scrutiny, which raises the question of the quality of such laws,” it said.
In 2021, 44% of the Bills were passed within a day of their introduction in the legislature. In eight states including Gujarat, West Bengal, Punjab, and Bihar, all Bills were passed on the same day as they were introduced,” it said.
The previous Punjab Assembly introduced and passed 16 Bills in its last sitting,” the think tank observed.
Five states took more than five days to pass more than 50% of their Bills. These are Karnataka, Kerala, Meghalaya, Odisha and Rajasthan.
In Kerala, 94% of the Bills were passed after at least five days of their introduction in the legislature. The corresponding figure was 70 per cent for Karnataka, and 80% for Meghalaya.
Committees, the study pointed out, help legislatures discuss bills in detail and scrutinise their provisions closely. Committees also provide an opportunity to engage with sectoral experts and stakeholders which allows for wider participation in the law-making process.
“However, at the state level, committees are often the exception rather than the norm, and bills are rarely examined by committees. In 2021, around 40 Bills, across states, were sent to committees for detailed examination,” it said.
In 2021, 21 out of 28 states promulgated ordinances. The Kerala government promulgated the highest number of 144 ordinances followed by Andhra Pradesh (20) and Maharashtra (15).
In Kerala, Bills replacing 33 ordinances became Acts and in Andhra Pradesh, all bills replacing these Ordinances became Acts in 2021.
Andhra Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh also promulgated ordinances to give effect to budget proposals, the study said.
The Congress has alleged that the Bharatiya Janata Party is trying to topple its coalition government in Jharkhand after the three MLAS were caught on Saturday, July 30.
New Delhi: The Congress on Sunday, July 31 suspended three Jharkhand MLAs, who were caught allegedly with a huge amount of cash in West Bengal’s Howrah.
The Congress has accused the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) of trying to topple its coalition government in Jharkhand after the three MLAS were caught on Saturday, July 30.
Addressing a press conference at the All India Congress Committee (AICC) headquarters in Delhi, party’s Jharkhand in-charge Avinash Pande said Congress president Sonia Gandhi has suspended the three MLAs with immediate effect.
Acting on a tip-off, police on July 30 intercepted an SUV in which Congress MLAs Irfan Ansari, Rajesh Kachchap and Naman Bixal Kongari were travelling on national highway-16 at Ranihati in Howrah and allegedly found a huge amount of cash in the vehicle.
Ansari is the MLA of Jamtara, while Kachchap is the legislator of Khijri in Ranchi district and Kongari is the MLA of Kolebira in Simdega district.
Congress general secretary Jairam Ramesh said on Twitter on Saturday, “The BJP’s ‘Operation Lotus’ in Jharkhand stands exposed tonight in Howrah. The game plan of ‘Hum Do’ in Delhi is to do in Jharkhand what they did in Maharashtra by installing E-D duo.”
झारखंड में भाजपा का ‘ऑपरेशन लोटस’ आज की रात हावड़ा में बेनकाब हो गया। दिल्ली में ‘हम दो’ का गेम प्लान झारखंड में वही करने का है जो उन्होंने महाराष्ट्र में एकनाथ-देवेंद्र(E-D) की जोड़ी से करवाया।
After rebel Sena leader Eknath Shinde was sworn in as the Maharashtra chief minister recently, the Congress had hit out at the BJP for capturing power “unethically.”
According to the Indian Express, Congress spokesman Pawan Khera on Sunday said: “In states where the BJP can’t come to power through elections, you have several examples of the kind of tactics the party uses, the money it spends and misuses agencies in such states.” He alleged that the BJP is conspiring to destabilise the Jharkhand government.
Howrah superintendent of police (rural), Swati Bhangalia, had said, “We had specific inputs that a huge amount of money was being transported in a black car. We started checking the vehicles and intercepted this SUV in which three Jharkhand MLAs were travelling. A huge amount of cash was found in the vehicle.”
“Cash counting machines are being brought in to ascertain the total amount. The MLAs are also being questioned about the source of the money and where it was being taken to,” she added.
The making of Alt News co-founder, India’s most prominent fact-checker, who just spent three weeks in jail for the work he does.
Mohammad Zubair, the 39-year-old fact-checker whose recent journalistic work made the biggest headlines internationally and garnered a lot of attention towards the growing culture of genocidal hate speech and violence against Muslims in India, eventually became a headline himself when he was arrested in as many as seven cases one after the other for alleged hateful tweets.
Immediately after his arrest in June, Zubair received massive support from all over the world and #IStandWithZubair emerged as a top trend globally. After 23 days of being caught in a cycle of arrest, bail and re-arrest, the Supreme Court granted him bail for all pending and cases filed in relation to the same set of tweets, thereby ending what Justice D.Y. Chandrachud described as a “vicious cycle”.
In recent years, Alt News – a small team of over a dozen fact checkers led by two former techies, Mohammad Zubair and Pratik Sinha – has emerged as a giant slayer when it comes to busting fake news and motivated political propaganda. Amongst other things, Zubair is known for his tweets and instant fact checks, often disrupting emerging narratives in Big Media. While Zubair has earned lakhs of followers through his work, he has also made some very formidable enemies.
The Wire caught up with Zubair after his release on bail for an interview. Read the excerpts here.
Congratulations on your freedom. How are you feeling?
I am happy to be back. I am grateful for the immense support I received from friends and well-wishers who stood by me. To know that so many people felt that my arrest was an attack on their lives and freedom is very overwhelming. My family was scared but Pratik and his mother stood with them and called them daily. They were constantly sharing updates of the cases and working round the clock to arrange local lawyers for five different places in UP, and also in Delhi. Apart from keeping the work of Alt News afloat, they helped the lawyers prepare for the cases. Pratik was targeted as well, but he maintained calm. Our donors did not withdraw support despite threats. In fact, we received more financial help from them despite no appeal in the last two months.
What was the most painful part of this entire ordeal?
My parents, my wife and kids were scared. My son proudly tells everyone that I am his father. We could not send him to school for many days. And we told him not to tell anyone that I am his father. I think that was very hurtful.
There’s a lot of speculation online about your past, so let’s start from the beginning. Can you tell us about your childhood?
I am from a remote village called Thalli in Tamil Nadu, some 70 km from Bangalore. My father was a farmer and he had a small fruit and vegetable business in Hosur. When I passed Class 1, my mother insisted on sending my younger sister and me to a good school in Hosur.
When and why did you move to Bangalore?
For three years, my sister and I traveled 60 km everyday to Hosur and back in a government bus for our primary education. Then, my mother decided that we should shift to Bangalore. She had to face some resistance from my father’s family because it was a tough choice back then to move to the city. Eventually, she succeeded in convincing them. Had we not migrated to Bangalore, life would have probably been very different today.
Even after moving to the big city and joining a missionary school, I had no interest in studies. Initially, I was quite poor at studies. I loved cricket and spent time with my new friends. Apart from one or two subjects, I either failed at the rest or got around 35% – the passing score. I flunked Class 6 and suddenly I was in the same class as my sister. My sister was always keeping an eye over my ‘not so sincere’ school life. As a teenager, if I’d approach a girl at school, my sister would either scare her away or embarrass me, and complain to my father. Phir bhi chup chup kar baat ho jaati thi idhar udhar.
What was the turning point? Why did you suddenly become interested in academics?
My father was really upset with my academics and one day we had a big son-father talk that almost all middle class families have. He told me how much he has sacrificed for our future and that if I fail, everything would collapse. He was so angry that he even said that I won’t even be able to pass the Class 10 exams – something that my Class 10 teacher also told me. I felt humiliated and decided to work hard as education was the only hope for my family. I pulled up my socks and passed out of school with a decent score and then got into M.S. Ramaiah Institute of Technology, a reputed engineering college.
After this sudden turnaround, my father told my younger siblings that if someone like Zubair can do it, you all can do it too (laughs). Suddenly, I was the role model for the family who went on to become the first person to get a professional degree. Before this, no one, on either my mother or father’s side, had gained formal education at this level. It was a big deal at that time. Two of my siblings became engineers and two became doctors.
Why did you do engineering?
At that time, all we thought about was to make a better life. For that, you had to become a doctor or an engineer. There were no other options for us. I could not become a doctor because firstly I was not good at biology and I had to start working soon because my family had sold literally everything for our future. We had run out of resources and being the eldest, it was my responsibility to support the family.
So, how did Mohammad Zubair, a Bangalore based tech-guy, who until a decade back had no interest in politics get into this profession?
I am a creation of my circumstances. I became active on social media around 2012. I used to follow a lot of pages posting non-political content. My own timeline was filled with posts about cricket. Something changed around 2012-13. Suddenly all these pages started posting political content targeting the then Congress government. I had no idea about what was going on. Over the next two years, the focus shifted from the failures of the government to Muslims. And close friends started posting subtle anti-Muslim stuff online. It was choking me. I felt lonely and betrayed about the fact that people I had been following for a long time suddenly made me feel alienated. At that point, my apolitcial cricket posts made no sense to me and the world around me. I didn’t even know the name of my local MLA or CM. That’s how disconnected I was from politics, but my interest exponentially grew over the next few years.
How did you meet Pratik?
I had shared a post from Pratik’s Facebook page. He messaged me to say I hadn’t given proper credit. I rectified it and reposted it. I found that we had a lot in common. When the Una incident happened, we used our pages to report the story. Gradually, the mainstream media picked it up. This made us realise that we should start our own website. Initially, we only wanted to amplify counter opinions to the mainstream narrative. But then Pratik came up with the idea of a fact-check website. That’s when Alt News was born. I didn’t join full-time until 2018. It was hard for me to convince my family initially.
You said that growing Islamophobia and intolerance pushed you to do what you do. What was happening around 2012-13?
While working at an MNC, I used to go to my office in a kurta on Juma (Fridays). One Friday, one of my managers approached me. He was angry with me because I was not wearing my kurta. “Aaj toh Juma hai, tumne kurta kyun nahi pehna? Us mein tum bahut ache lagte ho,” he said. To see the same colleagues suddenly become hostile and aggressive whenever there was a political discussion at the office, made me uncomfortable. I had neither the knowledge nor the heart to counter them at that point of time. The three or four Muslims there felt cornered and naturally we had no reply to any of the WhatsApp propaganda.
I started reading and researching about it. In the course of my work, I realised that facts to counter propaganda are as important as the ability to disseminate them to a large audience. My FB page – Unofficial Susu Swamy – became the portal to vent out my frustration at the absurdity of the state of affairs. At one point, travelling to different countries as a part of my job stopped exciting me as much as my Facebook satire page did.
The same satire that landed you trouble recently?
It is quite apparent that I was not arrested for my old tweets or that Facebook parody post. Every old post was a criticism of outrageous statements made by politicians.
Then why do you think you were arrested?
As soon as my tweet calling out the comments of BJP spokespersons went viral and there was diplomatic flak against the government, I knew that they would come after me.
A senior editor in his column accused you of not upholding the free speech rights of BJP spokesperson Nupur Sharma. What is your view of his analysis?
I disagree with his analysis. Hundreds of people abuse my prophet and my religion under my tweets in the worst way possible. I don’t respond to them. But ruling party spokespersons normalising this abuse should be called out. It’s not a debate when you invite people to abuse and attack each other. I also called out the so-called maulana who made hate speech against Hindus. Even if the economy or air pollution is being discussed, the same ‘respected religious leaders’ are called so that they make controversial comments and that gives fodder to fuel propaganda. Apparently, the godi media has no problem with them. In fact, their videos are made viral before elections for fear mongering. It’s a win-win situation. These debates are not organised to critique religion or spread liberal values.
A section of the mainstream media celebrated your arrest. Why are you hated by this media?
They have good reason to hate me. The mainstream media incites hate and celebrates vigilante justice. They have reduced the IT cell to the role of amplifiers. Earlier, when their fake news was called out, they issued apologies but now they do it with complete impunity. My work embarrasses them. They fear public accountability for dividing society and filling people with fear.
You have watched hundreds of videos of hate and violence, is there a particular video that has disturbed you?
The calls at the Haridwar event and open rape threats in Sitapur in police presence shocked me the most.
It was the police that asked me to hide my face for security. It was my first time (laughs). I had no idea how the optics of the police dragging me around would be played on television to portray me as a dreaded criminal or terrorist. However, when I realised that this was not for my safety but to malign me, I did not hide my face. If you see the later videos, I am not wearing a mask or covering my face. I even waved to the media in some videos.
There are conspiracy propaganda theories being peddled about your early life suggesting that perhaps you are Ajmal Kasab who somehow managed to escape Indian law enforcement machinery. How do you deal with this sort of thing?
I was just another common citizen working towards a better future for my family. One can’t expect any better from these guys. This is laughable but a strong propaganda campaign can easily frame any critical mind as a traitor. It is even easier to do this to a Muslim.
What did the police ask you during your interrogation?
Many of the questions were frivolous and at times revolting. Two officers interrogating me at Hathras were literally asking questions based on a right-wing propaganda website’s articles. When an officer asked me a question on George Soros funding me, I told him the source of that question, and asked him, “Sir aapka source Mr X ka tweet hai na?” He was taken aback and we laughed out loudly. The police in Sitapur behaved as if they are advocates of the “lovemonger”. They asked me, “Do you even know what this man has gone through to make such speeches. Why did you not post his apology?” But was it even an apology?
How was your Eid in jail?
I spent my time offering namaz and the duas my family advised me to recite, although I could not pray regularly or even on Eid as I was being constantly shifted from one city to another. I did not want to isolate myself and use this opportunity to know more about everything inside the four walls of the jail. I spoke with as many inmates and police officials as possible. I feel that it was an enriching experience to listen to different people in jail. On one hand, I felt vulnerable but very soon I became friends with many guys, perhaps because I was very eager to know their story.
What made you say that you view your bail as an exception?
I was privileged that I had the money, reach, resources, support from the civil society, the larger journalistic fraternity, and above all a very solid legal team. I met many young prisoners in jail who have languished there for years merely for social media posts. I met young Kashmiris whose families can’t fight long legal battles. It brought tears to my eyes while hearing their ordeal.
A prominent person in Tihar told me, “I am sad and happy that you’re here. I wish that other journalists also come here and see the condition of prisoners so that when you go out then you can talk to the world about us and our stories.”
There won’t be social media outrage like that for many others. This problem requires a larger overhaul of the system so that people can’t be indiscriminately denied their right to freedom. I think journalists should focus more on the situation of undertrials, especially those who have no one to run a hashtag in support.
Karnataka has recently witnessed a spate of hate crimes and it’s been in news for all the wrong reasons. How do you view this change?
If we keep the fringe incidents of the coastal belt aside, Karnataka was safe from these communal conflicts even until recently. But things changed quite rapidly, especially in the last one year. It is sad to see the poison of communal hate spread here. Young people are losing their lives but there’s no end to this madness. I am not saying that it was hunky dory all over India, but in this part, it was certainly not this bad. We grew up as young Indians respecting each other. There was at least some space for everyone to belong and dream.
What is your message to young journalists?
If I go quiet then the effect on others will be chilling. It’s exactly why I was arrested. A Muslim man asking for accountability and working as a journalist is not a crime. I have to tell my younger colleagues to know that their work matters and bearing witness to horrors that would otherwise be forgotten is not a crime. You should be present on social media and write your own stories. Don’t let the propaganda around you go on without a counter. If every district gets an individual who can fact check or flag hate speech and challenge the propaganda of the godi media channels, things will ultimately become better.
The work of a few individuals, however good, cannot fill this void in the absence of a robust mainstream media. But that’s easier said than done. It’s our responsibility to create space and provide resources for new voices, especially from the marginalised sections. We have to provide training and the requisite technical skillset to them. To imagine that we can create a democratic society without a democratic media and a democratic media without getting fresh voices, is wishful thinking.
Do you see any hope?
I don’t want children to grow up hating each other or being under-confident about themselves, but I won’t lie – I don’t see hope. In my view, this political climate is going to remain or perhaps worsen even more. However, I don’t think that staying silent is an option. We need to hold on to whatever resources we have, to continue the truth telling. Until now, I have been reporting hate speeches, hate crimes and busting fake news but now my focus will be more on exposing communal hate peddled by the mainstream media.
The death toll has climbed to 5,26,357 with 39 more fatalities.
India’s COVID-19 case rally rose by 19,673 in a day to reach 4,40,19,811 while active cases reached 1,43,676, according to the Union Health Ministry data updated on Sunday.
The death toll has climbed to 5,26,357 with 39 more fatalities, the data updated at 8 am stated.
Active caseload increased by 292 in a day and comprise 0.33% of the total infections, while the national COVID-19 recovery rate was 98.48%, the Ministry said.
The number of people who have recuperated from the viral disease surged to 4,33,49,778 while the case fatality rate was recorded at 1.20%.
The daily positivity rate was 4.96% and the weekly positivity rate was recorded at 4.88%.
According to the Union Health Ministry, 204.25 crore doses of vaccines have been administered in the country so far.
India’s COVID-19 case tally had crossed the 20-lakh mark on August 7, 2020, 30 lakh on August 23, 40 lakh on September 5 and 50 lakh on September 16. It went past 60 lakh on September 28, 70 lakh on October 11, crossed 80 lakh on October 29, 90 lakh on November 20 and surpassed the one-crore mark on December 19, 2020. India crossed the grim milestone of two crore on May 4 last year, three crore on June 23 and four crore on January 25 this year.
The 39 new fatalities include seven in West Bengal, four in Maharashtra, three in Delhi, two each from Chhattisgarh, Gujarat, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Jammu and Kashmir, Kerala, Madhya Pradesh, Punjab, and Uttar Pradesh, and one each in Assam, Goa, Karnataka, Nagaland, Sikkim, Tripura, and Uttarakhand.
AISSC chief Syed Naseeruddin Chishti said, “We want to give the message that all religious leaders have a responsibility to guide their community, and especially the youth, to aspire to be responsible citizens of India.”
New Delhi: Religious leaders, including the All India Sufi Sajjadanashin Council (AISSC), on Saturday, July 31 proposed a resolution advocating a ban on organisations like Popular Front of India (PFI) for pursuing a “divisive agenda” and indulging in “anti-national activities.”
The AISSC said, “Organisations like PFI and any other such fronts, who have been indulging in anti-national activities, pursuing a divisive agenda and creating discord amongst our citizens must be banned and action initiated against them as per the law of the land.”
The Sufi body made these comments at an interfaith conference organised in New Delhi.
It also urged people to condemn any acts targeting any god, goddesses or prophets in discussions or debates by anyone.
According to India Today, AISSC chief Syed Naseeruddin Chishti said, “We want to give the message that all religious leaders have a responsibility to guide their community, and especially the youth, to aspire to be responsible citizens of India.”
“It is observed that social media platforms are being used for promoting hatred against religions and their followers. We request the Govt to take serious note and initiate appropriate measures to curb the menace,” he added.
National security advisor (NSA) Ajit Doval, who was also present at the conference, urged leaders of various faiths to counter the radical forces trying to create animosity in the name of religion and ideology that adversely affects the country and has international ramifications.
“Some people try to create animosity in the name of religion that adversely affects the entire country and also has ramifications internationally,” he said.
“We cannot be a mute spectator to this. To counter religious animosity, we have to work together and make every religious body feel part of India. In this, we sail and sink together,” Doval said at the conference held against the backdrop of a number of incidents of religious discord in the country.
The aim of the conference was to have a rigorous discussion among the representatives of different faiths including Hindu, Islam, Christianity, Sikhism, Buddhism and Jain on “rising religious intolerance,” the organisers told PTI.
A resolution was proposed to create a new body, inclusive of all faiths, to spread the message of peace and harmony and fight against the radical forces.
