C'da,
This article and others for the last few days do reflect on theviolence that 
crop up time to time in India.
I am glad that the likes of Jadish Tytler was forced to resign. Itsalso sad 
that the attrocities on innocent Sikhs took 20 years to evenbe recognized. Its 
heartening, that the PM at least 'hung his head inshame' and apologized for the 
attrocities, even though he was farremoved from the scene. At least it gives 
some closure to people wholost their loved ones.
Unscrupulous polititcians are at the core of the violence. Immediatelyafter the 
Indira Gandhi assination, it were people like Tytler whoinstigated the masses 
to attack Sikhs. Similarly, is the case whenMuslims are attacked.
The article below does seem to lay the blame entirely on the majority 
(Hindus).Not that one can condone any of the attrocities, is there 
anyculpability of minority groups in these incidents?
Why would Sikh bodyguards assasinate the PM? I am not sure aboutGodhra, but 
whats bandied about is that muslim groups cast the firststone by killing the 
'Hindu' political workers, and things startedspreading to other areas.
First hand in the 60s, I have seen Calcutta go up in flames whenHindu/Muslim 
mobs killed each other. Do we blame the masses or thepolititcians who started 
these?
IMHO, the country is much like a tinder box at times. With hugeuneducated 
masses are drenched with passions of one kind or another.All it takes is a 
cruel polititcian to light it up.
We have seen these types of incidents in Assam too, during theAssamese/Bengali 
conflicts or Nelli.  I was very young at that time,and know now how and why the 
conflict started, but do vividly remembera GU Prof (Gupta, a quiet Bengali 
gentleman) was stabbed just a coupleof homes away from us - we could hear the 
wife and son crying forhelp, but no one had the courage to go out and help 
(even the nextdoor neighbor).
Were those culprits ever brought to justice? Absolutely not, and giventhe 
political climate it would have been imprudent for anyone to getarrested - the 
incident was just brushed under the carpet.
I have also heard of similar incidents in Silchar, where Assamese weresingled 
out to be murdered.
So, in the end, whether we like it or not, it seems that crimescommitted during 
riots are 'not crimes'. A few days ago, I think youasked a question: If India 
was a violent country?
The answer is a resounding yes. The only thing, one can say is thatgiven the 
diversity of language, religion, caste, creed, states allliving in one place as 
a country, its a miracle these conflicts arenot as frequent as they used to be.
Maybe, people are at last learning to live in harmony and tolerance.
--Ram


On 8/11/05, Chan Mahanta <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:> CARNAGE 84> > We, the 
bloody people> > By  Sankarshan Thakur> IN AN UNREQUITED LAND:>  A child from 
one of>  Trilokpuri's ravaged families>  Photographed by Gauri Gill> > We are 
the apparatchik of serial and periodic> political madness, we are the midwives 
of the> abortion of the senses> For a talkative society, we tell very little 
of> the essence of ourselves. We babble in the> subconscious hope it will drown 
our truths. We've> erected opaque mental monuments to Buddha and> Gandhi to 
blind our eager resort to bloodletting.> When the glare catches us red-handed, 
we wipe our> sins on others and melt into our vast convenience> of numbers. 
Narendra Modi. Pravin Togadia. Lal> Krishna Advani. Jagdish Tytler. Sajjan 
Kumar. HKL> Bhagat. Bal Thackeray. Hiteswar Saikia. Bhagwat> Jha Azad. Remember 
him? Bhagwat Jha Azad of> Bihar? Remember Bhagalpur of 1989? Remember a> 
village called Chanderi and another called Logain?> >  ....I!
t was eventually left to the vultures to> rip the cover. The bodies, 116 of 
them, had lain> there decomposing for six weeks. In that period> the village 
had grown wiser to the fineries of> tilling - dead men made good compost. A 
lush> winter crop of mustard had sprung on the bed of> corpses they had laid. 
But the village was also> to grow wiser to a thing or two about old idioms:> 
Dead men do tell tales, it is seldom they don't.> >  The stench had risen high 
off the field and the> vultures had begun to swoop low. The killing had> been 
consummated weeks ago, an entire settlement> of Muslims on the edge of Logain. 
Their common> guilt the villagers had consigned to a common> grave. The carnage 
was an open secret in the> village but to the world beyond it was just a> 
secret. Until the vultures arrived, followed by> that rare thing called a 
policeman with a> conscience. He had the crop shaved and the field> dug up. The 
skulls flew into the sky as the> spades got to workŠ.> >  Som!
e among us were there and told the story.> Logain became, like many of our 
stories, the> child of memory's whore - an unwanted, forgotten> consequence of 
collective shame. We are a nation> eddying with bastard deeds. Nellie. 
Moradabad.> Bhiwandi. Hashimpura. Maliana. Meerut. Kanpur.> Bhagalpur. Sopore. 
Baroda. Aligarh. Mumbai.> Chittisingpora. Ahmedabad. Delhi. We lay> 
blood-litter on the streets and retreat into our> homes. Nobody owns up. We 
decamp from facts and> populate our horrors with clichéd characters of> fiction 
- a violent mob, a murderous horde, a> crowd screaming, slashing, burning, a 
mass that> suddenly descended and vanished.> >  Who? Wherefrom? Us. Herefrom. 
Every single time.> It is we who pillage, rape and murder. Under> wrongful 
excitement and exhortation. Under> criminal instruction and protection. Under 
the> Modis and Togadias and Tytlers, yes. They are the> leaders but we are 
there to be led. We are the> apparatchik of serial and periodic political> mad!
ness, we are the midwives of the abortion of> the senses. Then we wash our 
hands and line up> for secular prabhat pheris, our opaque monuments> to Buddha 
and Gandhi urgently recalled to veil> memory and guilt.> >  The Babel Tower of 
inquiries and commissions,> reports and recommendations that we have piled> for 
ourselves is a route of escape. The tabling> of Nanavati conclusions has become 
the hour of> more deflective clamour, a booster dose of> obfuscation. A 
talkative society talking> endlessly. Or an argumentative society, as we are> 
told on formidable authority, arguing on. About> who and how. About cause and 
consequence. About> crime and the absence of punishment. Never once> do we dare 
look ourselves in the mirror. Never do> we stop pointing fingers at others. 
Outraged,> shrieking justice, baying retribution, if legal.> Hush. Where were 
you at the time? And what were> you doing? You were electing Narendra Modi> 
astride a bloodied rath. You were voting Sajjan> Kumar and!
 Jagdish Tytler back to respectable> titles and hallowed portals. You were 
turning up> in thousands to pirouette to the twisted bigotry> of Pravin 
Togadia. You were letting Thackeray> hone your hatreds.> >  We need to ask few 
questions of each other. We> need to ask questions of the households that were> 
spared the mayhem of Trilokpuri. Ask the> shopkeepers of Mandvi Ni Pole. Ask 
around in the> bylanes of Hashimpura. Ask those who live across> the charred 
remains of Gulberg. Ask the villagers> of Logain, it's been 16 winters since 
that> resplendent mustard crop that contained a gene of> murdered blood. We 
cannot pretend being a civil> society when we claim, every now and again,> 
rights over uncivil liberties. We cannot invoke> laws that we ourselves 
violate. We cannot look up> to a Constitution that we trample underfoot.> >  
There are a myriad contemporary Indian stories> we have forgotten. They are all 
true stories.> They have dates and datelines. They have pegs and> dead p!
eople hanging by them. And there are, among> us, the many hands that hung them 
there that have> since been washed in collective and convenient> forgetting. 
The truth about mass murder in this> country we haven't learnt to tell. Even 
less to> confront. Which is why someday, when that> diabolical sloganeer 
appears again with a manic> prescription and a surcharged bloodcry, we will> 
again turn upon each other and consume.> > > > > Aug 20 , 2005> > 
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