If it’s Friday it must be Kashmir

The separatists in the Valley have their own calendar now marked with specific days of protest, we are told. Sunday is a working day.

Is this to be seen as an Islamic agenda, as reports have made it out to be? Kashmir University vice-chancellor Prof Riyaz Punjabi has a different take:

"Teachers need to gear up to complete the syllabus so that all examinations are held on time. So there shall be no holidays in the varsity henceforth, including Sundays, gazetted holidays, summer and winter vacations. It was also decided that the varsity shall operate from 9.30 am to 6 pm with immediate effect."

This is in response to the strikes that are being called almost every other day. Nowhere does it state that the Sunday holiday is being substituted. However, newspapers have conjectured:

Central agencies feel that the change may lead to Sunday being replaced by Friday as the weekly holiday, as has been the norm in Islamic countries.

Besides the ‘feeling’ of central agencies, there is the technical aspect of managing major infrastructural changes. Incidentally, Pakistan, of who Geelani is considered a stooge, does not enforce a Friday holiday. Instead of seeing the role of the universities to make up for lost time, we have the media indulging in such idle thinking. Even if it is true, it won’t alter the face of insurgency movement. The separatists have often used the Friday namaaz as the best means to address the congregation on political affairs.

If, indeed, this move is being Islamised, then what about the call for Ramzan ceasefire by the establishment in the past where it was assumed that a month of non-firing will cool off the militants, although it was promoted on respect for religion grounds? Why was the government playing to the gallery?

This time round, Omar Abdullah’s political advisor, Davinder Singh Rana, is trying to show muscle:

"We have already instructed the police to enforce law and order besides making people feel free to spend their life as per their choice.”

Yes, long time no see. So, if some people want to make Thursday evenings their chill-out time during curfew, it is like okey-dokey and those who prefer Saturday night fever in the heat of firing then that’s their choice.

Clearly, democracy means choosing the right day to stay at home.

Is Dr. Aafia Siddiqui insane?

Why are the defence lawyers in the Dr. Aafia Siddiqui case pleading that her sentence be reduced due to mental illness? Is it a strategy or is it a cop-out?

She was tried in the US District Court in Manhattan and convicted on two counts of attempted murder. As a US-trained scientist, her ‘victims’ were American agents and military officers.

It wasn’t even a plot. She was being interrogated at an Afghan police station when she snatched an unattended rifle and shot at them, yelling, "Death to Americans!"

They fired back and she was wounded. If she was such a huge threat why was she left loose and why was there an unattended rifle around? Why was she taken to the US to face trial? These questions have been posed at different times.

However, the case has always had an undercurrent of the criminal’s instability playing in the background. Now the lawyers have joined in:

"While the degree and extent of Dr. Siddiqui's mental illness has been the subject of much discussion in this case, one thing stands perfectly clear: the victim of Dr. Siddiqui's irrational behaviour is — first and foremost — none other than herself.”

I am not sure whether it will help matters other than to reduce her sentence. The larger issue of whether what she did was a criminal act, whether the FBI and the US agents were authorised to hound her and why, is she being made an example of will remain.

Dr Aafia’s boycott of the trial need not be an instance of mental illness but a genuine need to protest. I understand that her lawyers know how things work and are probably trying to protect her. There are clear divisions in her case and while there are supporters many within her own society, especially the expatriate community, would rather wash their hands off her. Not only has she attempted to kill the good Americans, but it was abuse of authority after the US gave her an education. This is the sort of apologetic stance we have been increasingly seeing.

It is back to the liberal Americans against those lumpens.

I had put forth another view regarding demonisation of violence, and that is not something one can probe but remains at the crux of how certain societies get the boot while others wear the boot straps.

Pissed off over a Wikileak

The most amazing aspect about the Wikileaks scandal is that it talks about an Afghan War. I am afraid, but where has it been documented as a war?

The information in short based on reports:

• 92,000 documents dating back to 2004 were released by the whistle-blowers’ website Wikileaks.

• They allege that Iran is providing money and arms to Taliban.

• There are details about how widespread corruption is hampering a nine-year war.

• New York Times becomes the keeper of morals and analyses “in mosaic detail why, after US spent almost $300 billion on the war, the Taliban are stronger than at any time since 2001”.

• The Guardian paints “a devastating portrait of the failing war”.

Formally, the US says it is concerned about the safety of its soldiers. If that were the case, it would not have sent them in the first place. How many strikes have been conducted by the Taliban against the US and how many against its own people? How many civilians have died in the drone attacks and how many militants in the American war on terror? If the reports are to be believed, then the money the US is spending is not going to the right place for the right cause. What sort of corruption is taking place? It has to be within the establishment.

Iran’s role has to be considered with some degree of scepticism. The US has been gunning for Iran for a while now and needs a strategic reason to attack it.

According to the Times, Pakistan agents and Taliban meet regularly “in secret strategy sessions to organise networks of militant groups that fight against American soldiers in Afghanistan, and even hatch plots to assassinate Afghan leaders.”

The ISI works on its own most of the time, therefore what worries the White House is that its partnership with Pakistan’s democrats and Afghan democrats, both set up by Big Brother, have not been as successful as it had hoped. Clearly, American foreign policy makers do not understand that the Pathan belt and people are not Zardaris and Karzais.

Pakistan’s envoy to US, Husain Haqqani, said the leaks consisted of “unprocessed” field reports that “do not reflect onground realities”.

It just does not matter. There is bound to be a slip between the cup and the lip but they aren’t too far from each other. The fact is that despite elections and an elected government in Afghanistan, there are documents pertaining to an Afghan war. The question is: whose war is it and why?

Kayani's staying power?

I don’t get it. Pakistan’s army chief General Ashfaq Pervez Kayani gets a three-year extension and it becomes a major talking point. Why?

I also don’t get it when the Prime Minister Yusuf Raza Gilani calls it "an administrative affair to which the government did not feel necessary to hold consultations with political parties".

Is Pakistan so democratic that it is not just the ruling party but the opposition that has to be consulted? In India many people don’t even know who the army chief is and political parties do not sit and confabulate over such appointments.

Pakistani newspapers are going all ballistic about how good it will be and how bad. We must remember that currently there is no army rule, so this undue attention to an extended tenure undermines the democratic process itself. And let us not go by reports that state this is the second time a civilian government has extended the services of the Chief of Army Staff; the others just gave themselves more time.

If Nawaz Sharif was in London and could not be taken into confidence, it only reveals that the political parties have their own favourites and it is jugglery at the political level. In Pakistan the army is covertly a wing of the civilian government.

The Hindustan Times starts its report by stating that “Many quarters have breathed a sigh of relief” over the announcement:

Military analyst Aisha Siddiqa, author of the book Military Inc, says that the decision to extend the term depended upon three factors — an agreement within the General Headquarters, a nod from the US and support of the political government.

I mean, is this like something unexpected? Has it not always been like this, except when there is a military coup?

Analysts say that while Kayani may be the best option, he may still not be the apolitical army chief that the political leadership hopes for.

There is nothing like apolitical army chief in Pakistan.

The Telegraph, UK, also decided to give some importance to “Gen Kayani, a chain-smoking golfer, (who) has won plaudits for staying out of the political arena.”

Obviously the West sees it differently. Or it knows the truth (his popularity with the US and NATO troops) and wants to look with wide-eyed wonder and concentrate on his chain-smoking and golfing. However, it did make the rather strange assertion:

His position, in charge of the country's military establishment, means he is often regarded as the most powerful man in the country and he has been at the helm of developing policy on India and Afghanistan.

Is one to assume that policy is only about warfare? I think this is obfuscation because if the West pulls the strings, especially in Pakistan’s war against terror, then he is not the most powerful man in Pakistan but the most amenable puppet.

After all this, I still don’t get it. If instead of retiring in November, he stays on till 2013, how will anything change? Pakistan would have an army chief, anyway. That man would do similar things because there is no choice. So, why is everyone talking so much about it? It’s not like he plays baseball.

Let's Talk

Should they? Should they not? That is not the point. The foreign ministers of India and Pakistan met, had “high-level talks” and the real interesting stuff happened outside. Nothing will come of it, they said…Pakistan should first hand over Asif Ali Zardari…oh, well, Hafeez Saeed…we first need to talk about Kashmir…no, we need to talk about terrorism, Obama says so….Osama says so…we should talk about sharing of waters…do we have a minister of water welfare? We should not resume talks until the Mumbai attacks issue is solved…the hotels have reopened or what? Oh, nah, not been there yet, saw pix; Oberoi has a red piano in the lobby. So, we should talk, we should do trade, we should send artistes, we should make joint films, we should have food festivals, we should sit and learn something…Pakistan tops the list of internet search for ‘sex’…we have a larger population. Tells us something. But, we are talking about S.M.Krishna and S.M.Qureshi…why can’t he spell his name as Kureshi then they will have identical initials, but that is such facile thinking. We must get serious. We must talk. Have talk shows.

Qureshi slams India’s foreign secretary who slammed Pakistan for slamming into Indian territory. Lots of slam, bam, thank you plan.

The Opposition BJP wants to call off talks after the talks. The funniest is former foreign minister and Jinnah bookwallah Jaswant Singh, the returned prodigal, who said, “I would like to ask what is the meaning of a dialogue when India gets nothing. If we are not finding any purpose then we should call off the talks.”

He did not think of this when he went on those book signing picnics singing praises of Jinnah? And for a supposed intellectual, he should know that the meaning of a dialogue is just that – two people talking about something. It is not about one party getting something.

Had the BJP not taken him back he would have continued with his we must talk blah.

So, yes, it was a nice chat. We must find out the real good sites Pakistani youth are visiting.

Fighting feet

If my leg was the Roman Empire then it had a fall. I ought to have used a more commonplace metaphor, especially considering I do tend to fall off beds. This time I did not. I was walking with what might be an autumn in my stride, the feet felt like they were crushing crisp brown leaves; they ambled from the balcony towards the bedroom and near the bottom corner of the bed a protrusion, a hook that had come off and hung loose with vicious intent, stalled movement. As it grazed my left ankle, the floor, smooth as a lover’s skin, dragged me down. I was on my left knee, in half a prayer pose, my hands akimbo – a bit like an opera singer and a bit like a bat in flight. The right leg had by then turned and my foot had twisted.

I screamed, as though the scream would untwist the foot, get me up from my knee. I was only slipping further, the foot twisting even more. I had nothing to hold on to except the bed. I tugged at the blanket like an urchin tugging at someone’s sleeve. I finally managed to sit on the floor, legs stretched out. With a great deal of effort I got to the edge of the bed and slowly slid up and wept into the pillow.

It felt strange. Just minutes ago I had opened my shopping bag and was admiring my new pair of shoes. When I had tried them they fit like a dream and I walked on air. Is this irony? Co-incidence? Or just another fall?

I know people fall. And this is hardly the stuff of Greek tragedies, pardon the mixing up of nations and metaphors. I had been on a high the past few days. I was treadmilling, bicycling, walking, sweating the hell out of myself, and I deserved those new shoes. An Iranian lady had helped me select them with facial expressions and delicate movement of hands. Our unspoken language made me feel good as she pointed me out to her whole family and they all smiled as though I looked like a bottle of Shiraz.

Minutes later, I was fragile glass. I had to manage the night with Deep Heat, which comes in spray form. Its sensual warmth penetrated my feet that ached uncharacteristically for the cold comfort of numbness.

Next morning brought a new pain, the pain of realisation of pain. Feeling pain is one thing. Realising that pain exists outside of feeling is quite another. Pain becomes an entity. It has its own dynamics, its own reason, and it chooses its victims carefully.

X-rays showed two broken bones. “Femur?” I asked the doctor, trying to sound knowledgeable about my body. “No, this is another bone.” He did not name it. There were two – they could be twins or they might be different. He did not think my bones needed names. The nameless bones were cracked. I imagined some fine piece of crystal on a mantelpiece with two cracks. Fractured feet. I needed a cast.

Before we could get to it, I asked the ortho if it would hurt. “Just a little,” he said. I either like a lot or nothing. I said, “Why must it hurt?” He smiled quizzically. I told him to give me local anaethesia for putting on a plaster. He was not amused. The new-fangled things are neat. He just kept winding what looked like an ordinary bandage, the soles touching his chest; for a while my soles could hear his heartbeats – I think on my feet! He was touching the wound gauze with water, pat-pat-pat, and the wetness set the plaster. I was amazed at how a simple bandage got so fixed to my feet. Now I can knock on it and it won't open any door. It is shut so tightly that no air can enter. It’s upto my calf because the pain travels. It must have chalked up quite a few qualifier miles.

I was out in a wheelchair and it felt like a stretch limo. If only I had a gown with a fur stole and a hat with ostrich feathers, I might have been in quite another age. The momentary charade of the imagination has now been replaced with a walker as I limp my way within the four walls. I see images on the walls, picture windows, the river, a beautiful table set for fine dining and the scent of jasmines as white as the cast on my leg. I think of sheesha, cinnamon flavoured, the smoke rings creating a haze, and I think how walls have doors and windows and yet we can see pictures on them without looking out. And I thank such moments for thoughts, for people, for strangers who make all this possible.

I don’t need glass slippers; my feet are glass.

Sunday ka Funda