The ‘Karmayogi’ for whom time was always short: My Tribute to B. Raman

On 30^th May, 2013, B Raman tweeted, “Hanumanji willing, shd be back home coming Saturday.” Instead, he left for his heavenly abode, yesterday 16^th June, 2013 in the evening. He had shared every detail of his illness on his blog and also on twitter, including the fact that it was terminal cancer he was dealing with and he didn’t have much time. Although quite active on facebook, I am not on twitter and missed his updates. The grief is profound: had I known, I would have spoken to him, even gone to India to see him. I was unaware of his hospital stay, of the end that was near and I am left now with deep regrets and a profound sense of personal loss. I couldn’t read the ominous signs of things to come. Since 11^th May, there was no ‘article alert’ in my gmail; South Asia Analysis Group, which carried his articles, have none of his pieces on their first three pages; since 14^th May there were no posts on his blog (Raman’s strategic analysis); his cancer update posted on 11^th May  suggested of a serious relapse.  I am now only left with memories, of the most extraordinary person with whom I worked so closely and who in so many ways was the perfect ‘guru’, the best teacher.

Bahukutumbi Raman (1936-2013) was an IPS officer of 1961 Madhya Pradesh cadre who later joined the Research and Analysis Wing, of the Intelligence Bureau. He served in the R&AW for 26 years, heading the counter-terrorism unit from 1988 until his retirement in 1994 as Additional Secretary in the Cabinet Secretariat. He spent his post retirement years as a prolific commentator and analyst on terrorism and strategic issues and was a regular media presence. He churned articles on a daily basis! He also had brief stints with various research organisations and think tanks. With his death, an era of strategic thinking in India has ended; he was a walking-talking data base of terrorism and counter terrorism; a recognised expert all over the world. 

Between September 2003 and November 2005, I worked with him at the Observer Research Foundation (ORF), a think tank in Delhi. He was Head of the International Terrorism Watch Programme which he had set up at ORF and also served as Director of ORF’s Chennai Chapter. I had completed my Masters degree in International Relations at JNU and was hired to coordinate the Terrorism Programme at the ORF. When I first met Raman Sir at ORF’s Delhi office, he asked me a few questions about why I wanted to work on terrorism, what I thought were the terrorism issues, what my plans were etc. and then after his return to Chennai sent me a long list of things to do. That was his style. Everything was well compartmentalised and every detail was mapped and that helped enormously in implementation. He sent regular instructions on emails and I reported to him on a daily basis. It was a wonderful working relationship and I don’t recall having worked harder in my life before or after that period.

The good thing about Raman Sir, contrary to popular view, is that he never actually imposed his views. With his junior colleagues and beginners like me, he had all the patience and always ensured that we expressed ourselves even if we disagreed with him. This was special, because in India, kowtowing to the bosses is common and contrary opinion is never tolerated by those in authority. He did have issues with his contemporaries and former intelligence colleagues (although he always extended professional courtesy to everyone, including those whom he disliked) but he was kind and extremely generous towards those whom he mentored. I don’t recall one harsh word that he ever spoke to me, going out of the way to write references and supporting my career aspirations in so many ways. He knew I wanted to train in academia and pursue a PhD in gender and terrorism studies. I was not going to be a regular mainstream terrorism analyst and he always supported my decisions. From the moment I met him, I only had respect, admiration and affection for the man who has had a very big role in my career. Although I am now quite well published and in some internationally acclaimed journals, my proudest moment was when South Asia Analysis website carried my article next to his!

The first conference we organised at ORF brought in experts from South and South East Asia together to talk about the regional impact of terrorism. I had just started working and was not even proficient in handling computers those days! After the conference programme was drawn up, I noted that one of the panels had no chair and another had a missing paper presenter. I pointed it out to him and to my utter shock, he calmly said that I was going to be chairing that session and would also present a paper! I had only 24 hours to think and my affirmative decision then put me on a career path that has never let me look back. After the conference, it was my turn to invite one of our organisers to offer the vote of thanks.  Raman Sir asked me to wait as he had something to say. He was most generous in his appreciation of my efforts and lavished so much praise that only left me humbled and tearful. It was as if our mutual faith had been vindicated. I still have the transcript of that speech he made and in moments of self doubt, it gives me inspiration and motivation. It was his confidence that he allowed me to co-edit the proceedings of that conference with another colleague and it was finally published as a book. He organised a massive book release function at IIC and made sure I was given credit for every bit of hard work I had put in. He ensured that there were ample opportunities for everyone who worked with him to realize their potential. His faith in the young and the untrained was remarkable.

While at ORF, I had started looking for PhD opportunities and I was uneasy telling him I wanted to leave. The intelligence man that he was, he was good at keeping some secrets. He resigned from ORF without discussing or deliberating with anyone; we had no clue this was coming. One morning he sent an email saying he had dissociated himself from ORF and after returning the few things at their Chennai office, “‘c ést fini between me and the ORF once and for all”, he wrote. He appeared whimsical at times like these and those of us who worked with him were very upset. Within moments of his resignation, I found another long email from him explaining (in bullet points which was always his style) why he had dissociated from ORF. He ensured that he played by the rules of the democratic and transparent work culture which he had created for all of us at ORF. He didn’t care about seniority or hierarchy and worked very hard to build a team in which the junior most members were also respected and valued. As someone who was such a big mentor and teacher to all of us, it was amusing when we met his elder brother Mr. B. Raghavan at a conference in Chennai. Raman Sir was visibly embarrassed as his older brother addressed him as ‘Ramu’ and chided him in front of all his staff. We giggled as we witnessed the great and proper Raman Sir, endearingly addressed as Ramu by his elder brother.

Most people say, he showed no emotions or sentimentality. I disagree, for, I saw Raman Sir extremely angry at times, also disappointed, tired, happy and always curious. I remember his laughter was uncontrollable and long after those around him stopped laughing and sat sombrely (waiting for the next instructions) he would keep chuckling at a joke only he understood. He deeply mourned the death of his friends K. Subrahmanyam, H. S. Chittaranjan and R Swaminathan (as I remember) and he was devastated by the untimely demise of his young and dynamic friend, Shakti Bhatt. We talked for a long time on the phone that day. He never seemed like a loner to me and knew how to communicate with himself. His single status and not having a family used to be a joke at work and most people found him socially awkward. I recall the two large pegs of whisky he relished at all social events and since his cancer diagnosis he really missed drinking, he told me. After his set quota of two drinks, he would leave immediately afterwards, often unnoticed and quietly without a fuss. I often wondered (if I hadn’t asked him earlier) if he had had dinner. It was impossible to not feel affection for him and care about his well-being. I remember at one such post conference event, he turned up in a bright yellow printed Hawaiian kind of shirt! For someone who always wore dull safari suits, this was bound to attract gossip and attention. I finally dared and complimented him as he shyly replied, it was a gift from a Malaysian friend!

He always travelled and walked into the office with his old briefcase. When in Delhi he would reach office before any of the regulars would. He would always thank me profusely for that hot coffee I would make him in a proper cup, whenever I found that he was there. I remember a colleague once admonished that I was being servile to my ‘boss’. He was more than a ‘boss’ to me; a father figure, a mentor, an inspiration, always a good listener, a very humble man with impeccable manners and work ethics. I last met him in 2008 at Chennai where he invited Ravi (my husband) and I to a five star restaurant for dinner. He ate only curd rice and laughed heartily over his own jokes. I kept in touch over phone and email and he was always keen to know about my career, new projects and publications. If he was disappointed that I didn’t become a mainstream terrorism analyst, or if he thought my work on gender and political violence was not important, he never showed it. He was always so curious, so pragmatic and yet positive. I see that he endorsed Narendra Modi as Prime Minister a few weeks ago on twitter. I am convinced that it must be a frustrating moment for him because he had all along disliked the Sangh Parivar’s brand of Hindutva politics. He had no patience for right wingers who harassed him continuously in the cyber space.

For a man who had dutifully served in India’s spy agency, he lived a remarkably public and transparent life. Every detail of his cancer was there on his blog and other web spaces (to the annoyance of some and curiosity of others). Although he was not active on facebook, I noted today that on twitter he expressed himself all the time, sharing his feelings. He posted a picture of himself after he was diagnosed with terminal liver secondary cancer; he also posted pictures of his parents and the music he liked. He wrote a remarkable number of posts about personal aspects of his life. He also expressed concern at how the poor would afford cancer care in India. To possibly family members, he admonished on twitter, “I can eat only what my tummy can tolerate. I can't eat what others want me to eat. Affection for terminal cancer patients shd be simple and normal, not instructive.” He called cancer, the ‘terrorist’ he would not be defeated by and always wished to avoid radiation therapy. The ironies were plenty, as he reminded his readers after his 11th May cancer update on his blog that he would be 77 in August this year. For the last 8 years, I have never forgotten to wish him on his birthday which falls on 14^th of August (Pakistan’s Independence Day!).

I am absolutely gutted that I couldn’t get to speak to him one last time. But there is a comforting thought, that he lived and died like true ‘karmayogis’ do. In our country when corruption is the norm these days and public servants amass wealth, the spartan and inspirational life of Raman Sir will keep reminding us that there once was an India, where government officials cared for their jobs, their country and their people. After he was diagnosed with cancer in 2009 and told me he had 5 years or so in this biggest fight against ‘terrorism’, I always dreaded writing this obituary. His presence was comforting and although we lived continents apart, I always know his blessings have stood me in good stead. His phone ring tone was A. R Rehman’s Jai Ho (from Slumdog Millionaire), and in many ways captures what Raman Sir lived by and believed in. I have been extraordinarily fortunate in having had the best mentors in my life and B. Raman was the most special of them. I dedicated my PhD thesis to him and it will be my eternal sorrow that I will not be able to hand over a copy of my book personally to him, when it is out. Rest in Peace, Sir. There will never ever be another like you and may Hanumanji take care of you in the heavens above.

And there were Amanats before….

In a gut wrenching and heart breaking interview on Zee TV, Amanat’s friend, the 28-year-old software engineer and only eyewitness to the December 16, 2012 brutal sexual assault, stated that three Police vans arrived at the scene almost 30 to 45 minutes AFTER the call to the police. Further they began to argue about which thana’s jurisdiction could be established as the couple lay bleeding, naked, cold and in urgent need of medical attention. Finally, they were taken to the Safdarjung hospital which was not the nearest hospital where the two were found, wasting further precious time. Instead of any apology the Delhi police have rebutted these allegations of callousness and said Police Control Room (PCR) vans reached the scene within minutes of the crime and removed the duo to hospital in quick time. To add insult to injuries, it is being reported that the UPA government is charging Zee TV for invading the privacy of Amanat because of the interview of the friend/witness who exposed police lapses. We are all familiar with the attacks on fundamental rights of the press and expression under this government and this is absolutely deplorable by any standards. One can’t even begin to imagine the trauma of the brave man who recounted the happenings of the night on TV, providing us a mirror to our administrative system and our own social behaviour, as he told us how passers-by saw the victims and yet walked away without trying to help them.

For more insight on police investigations and on our own social ethos in India in sexual assault cases, let us revisit the Priyadarshini Mattoo and the Aruna Shanbaug cases.

Priyadarshini Mattoo, a student at Delhi University’s Law Faculty was raped and strangled at her home in Vasant Kunj in Delhi in January 1996. Santosh Singh, guilty of the heinous crime, was her senior at college. In this case there was ample evidence that Santosh Singh had been harassing her and stalking her for some time (with even evidence of a police FIR which she had filed). There was further and strong evidence of his guilt as his entry into her apartment had been witnessed by her domestic help on the day of the crime. He raped her and then hit her with a helmet, leaving her face battered beyond recognition. The shameless Delhi police did everything within their powers to get an acquittal for Santosh Singh, including fudging evidence and concealing facts from the court. Why? Because, the accused's father was a police IG himself and a government employee from the prestigious Indian Police Services. The trial court actually acquitted him in 1999 and he was conveniently rehabilitated as if nothing had happened. He got married and became a practising lawyer.

Relentless media campaign and the resilience of the Mattoo family bore fruit when 6 years later the Delhi High Court convicted him of the crime and the judge pronounced a verdict of death penalty. Finally the death sentence was converted to life by the Supreme Court and even that doesn’t really matter because the guy has been out on parole mostly, thanks to the wonderful Delhi Government and the one and only Sheila Dixit! When someone makes a noise, promptly he is sent to jail and then he is out again....This is how the Indian criminal justice system works.

Now let us turn to the Aruna Shanbaug case where a young and beautiful nurse, Aruna, was brutally raped by a hospital sweeper, Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki at the King Edward Memorial hospital in Mumbai. The assault, in 1973, left her permanently nerve damaged due to asphyxiation as Walmiki used a dog chain to attack her. Those unthinkable moments of brutality changed her life from someone who was engaged to be married (to a doctor in the same hospital) to a vegetative patient in the very hospital she worked. Her fiancé moved on and her family abandoned her after a few years. She continues to “live” in the vegetative state at the Mumbai hospital and in 2011 a mercy petition for euthanasia for her was rejected by the Supreme Court. Sohanlal Walmiki was caught and convicted, and served a sentence for assault and robbery ONLY. The hospital decided to ‘protect’ Aruna by not making her violent anal rape public. As a result no rape charges were even filed. Walmiki served his sentence and then went to Delhi, found work and was rehabilitated.

While we rage and upset ourselves over our newest braveheart heroine, Amanat, here are questions to ponder over.

How do rape convicts (especially in high profile cases like Mattoo and Shanbaug) get so easily rehabilitated by society? How was it possible for Santosh Singh to get married and also become a practising lawyer in Delhi? Similarly, Sohanlal Walmiki was easily able to find a job in Delhi (I read in another hospital!) and was able to move his entire family and live his life to the full, after having served his prison sentence. We have said enough about the culture of rape and our social responsibility. It is time we asked how many of these criminals and rapists are easily able to find social and even political rehabilitation in many cases? Again, a personal story for the record. A friend’s neighbour in Ranchi, as is apparently well established, burnt his wife to death. There was no conviction despite evidence and he happily lives among ‘civilized’ people who only limit their social conscience to gossiping behind his back of his evil deeds! He did not have a problem finding an apartment and no one finds it offensive to live next to this guy, whose behaviour otherwise is odious in every way as he picks up petty quarrels and bullies those around him. If at all and shockingly, people are scared of him. The chalta hai (shit happens!) attitude till our own backyard starts burning is the issue here. We learn to live with the stink, why?

Sohanlal Walmiki and Santosh Singh (not to mention Manu Sharma, Vikas Yadav and so many others) make a mockery of our sensibilities. We allow them to live amongst us as long as it is not ‘us’ they harm but another. The very fact that these guys didn’t have a problem finding jobs, finding homes, speaks volumes about a society and what it is willing to tolerate. Not an insignificant fact to mention here, how innocent Muslims in India will not find apartments and houses while we easily rehabilitate violent criminals and rapists, we vote for them, we give them jobs and share our neighbourhoods with them. What is wrong with us?

The other question we should be asking is about chemical castration, which is about decreasing male libido and sexual desire among rape convicts. In all these three cases (Mattoo, Shanbaug and Amanat) the culprits were motivated more by revenge and ‘teaching a lesson’ to those they attacked. Priyadarshini Mattoo had rejected the proposals and constant harassment of Santosh Singh, her university senior, and had even complained against him which infuriated him. Sohanlal Walmiki wanted to teach Aruna a lesson because, according to him, she nagged him constantly and scolded him for not doing his work well. We all know that Amanat’s rapists have said similar things. It was when she resisted by hitting and biting them that they became more violent with her. How can then rape be considered a sexual crime alone? It is a crime against a particular kind of assertive women in these three cases where they fought hard and resisted. It is a crime to uphold gender hierarchy and it is about the exercise of power. This must be understood clearly as we debate the quantum and nature of punishment. Rape is VIOLENCE of a particular brutal nature and those committing it should be shamed by society in every way possible.  Isn’t it odd that rape survivors are shamed and the accused rewarded?

Finally, my point about “middle class” sensibilities and in response to the arguments put forth by a commentator on the GIGGN blog where I posted my first article; that rape is ONLY committed by upper caste men against lower caste women and that Amanat’s plight outraged everyone because she was middle class.  Any crime against anyone should have the same yardstick of punishment and justice and we know that in hierarchical societies, the ‘oppressed’ is also not a stable category. It doesn’t take minutes for the ‘oppressed’ to become the ‘oppressor’. Mattoo, Shanbaug and Amanat are not from the same strata, similar family background and neither are their perpetrators. Mattoo was denied justice because her perpetrator was upper class, son of a high ranking police officer. Shanbaug was denied justice because the doctors were guided more by middle class sensibilities to ‘protect’ her from the media and from the stigma of anal rape. It is certainly not arguable that class and caste oppression exist in India but to dismiss ‘middle class’ women as unworthy of support, or to hint that any crimes against them is less important is deeply troubling. Fact is that it is always a middle class morality that fundamentalist and reactionary groups adhere to and hence the need to rescue society from such moral policing becomes important. Moreover, when you look at the perpetrators in the two cases mentioned before (the son of a police officer and a hospital sweeper), there is something other than class/caste that decides how rape accused are rehabilitated.  

It is heartening to see that for the first time in years people have taken to the streets over an issue that concerns gender justice and women’s rights. This isn’t the time to be cynical and condemn the protestors. We must join in large numbers and keep demanding justice and accountability. We must keep introspecting. This is no time to rest.

       

Sweet Nothings

Guest Post by Dr. Anonymous.

Yet another woman brutalized, and now dead.

We sit, we watch, we listen, drink our collective chai, heave a sigh of relief that it wasn’t someone we knew and pass a few words of commiserations.

Our inner voice of outrage rises and falls.

We return to our daily lives, counting our blessings, and buying extra coconuts for the next religious ritual to protect ourselves from a world that grows more evil and indifferent day by day.

As a recent song by a famous western singer goes, “I am living on such sweet nothing”.

India is a country that has had privilege and misfortune of multiple rulers and invaders, a rich ancient history and proud cultural traditions, that despite the upheavals of time has managed to absorb and march on with the beat of modernity.

Long renowned as being the biggest democracy and the largest country of secular governing, Indians till this day swell with pride and wipe a tear at the memories of their homeland. It has been a bittersweet journey however, for in its quest to reach the highest academic and technological feats India has forgotten its girls.

As a Australian of Indian origins I was surprised on a recent visit to India to see the same TV slogans and advertisements still playing, the same scenes from the intermissions of childhood cartoons. The two poor farmers meeting on a dusty road, one taking his girl child to school, the other to his farm, the time old misogynist of an ancient land making dialogue with the wisdom of a young father who hopes his daughter will learn and live in a better world.

More than twenty years have passed since. That one little girl from that rural area has now attended school, she has now grown up, finished her secondary education, she is now studying in a local tertiary University, graduating and then moving to a larger metropolis where she begins working as a young professional.

Perfect isn’t it?

Look a little closer; she is scarred physically and mentally by over a decade of abuse. It has been inflicted at the hands of peers, family friends, seniors, and those in positions of authority. They range from the time of her education beginning in primary school in the playgrounds to the after hours tuitions with the local ascetic academic who deploys his carnal desires on innocent bodies.

She is uncomfortable, ashamed, and naïve. She learns early these are things she cannot discuss with those close to her, as she has seen what happened to those that did.

As she matures her resolve increases, she meets peers in similar situations who have taken to defensive measures such as carrying sharp pins whilst travelling on public transport, to turning around and walking away as a strange male masturbates in front of her in public.

At University she has a greater sense of achievement, she has overcome many adversities and has become the first in her family to attend tertiary education, her family are proud and anxious for her future as she makes her way in the new world. She graduates with good marks, she begins to work in a respectable institution.

Her days however are not free of harassment, whether buying her groceries, or applying for a driving license, she is heckled, groped, and openly propositioned at every turn. She tells herself she is strong and shows unbelievable focus, after all she tells herself, all the girls are in the same boat and are making it through somehow.

One day however this girl will stand up, she will go from being defensive onto the offensive, she may stand up to an abusive partner, she may even bite a sexual predator, because she knows that these acts are wrong and she can tolerate it no more.

The tragedy is, she will most likely pay for it with her life.

This is but a small snap shot of the lives of millions of women in India, a scenario knitted together but not unique from the lives of many women I know. Despite the advent of democracy, secularism, and free education, the struggle to empower and improve the life of a female foetus is, if anything, disappearing.

Foeticide, sexual assaults, domestic violence, mutilations, torture, revenge and honour killings are still occurring at embarrassing rates. Embarrassing to the citizens of a country who despite nuclear reactors and seats on the UN, cannot guarantee that the next girl child on a dusty rural road will not suffer an avoidable disability or worse death, at the hands of a society that does not value her.

These issues however, should not just be an embarrassment to India, but to our global collective conscience. To all of us who participate within a globalised economy, and particularly to those who operate in the jurisdictions of global law enforcement and legislation that were created to police human rights.

The Geneva Convention and bill of human rights exists in India, as does the rule of the law. However the justice system has evolved into a monstrous glacier that crushes the victims as it grows larger fed by the rivers of corruption that are flowing in every layer of its foundation.

Cases of brutal sexual assaults that have been awaiting hearings for over two decades are no longer anomaly, but a common theme that is repeated in every state of the country. A country where women, be they child or adult, are promptly dumped on the outskirts of society as soon as it is revealed they have been assaulted. A society that worships the lotus feet of the virgin like goddess who are betrothed to virile and often violent gods, whose arbitrary actions often leave the female forms on earth to suffer penance.

Where is the justice for these women? They have not only endured the torture of assaults but also have the ongoing brutalization that the legal and social masses inflict on them. Is it any wonder that so many families believe that foeticide to be a kinder alternative? Better to have lost a girl infant early then to nourish her with your love only to lose her body and soul to the hands of a violent beast?

Feminists scholars and academics in developed nations have failed to comprehend the extent of the tragedy that is unfolding in not only India, but also the entire Asian diaspora. This is especially in the cases where women’s rights in third world and developing countries is concerned.

The rise and rise of political correctness has created a defensive shield within which many academics are herded, as they focus on the minute details and fine tuning of women’s issues, literally within their own backyard. Furthermore there is also a notorious increase in conscious ignorance of the significant chasm that now exists between the basic human rights enjoyed by women in the developed world in comparison to their more oppressed sisters.

The very fact that there is such discomfort within academic circles to even discuss issues such as clothing restrictions as a form of oppression and policing of women’s bodies is a point in itself. By self censoring to such a significant degree that even free speech and discussion is curtailed, feminism has returned to its turtle shell, back to its own roots, and is now busy analyzing its own difficulties.

These difficulties are surprising to discover in their banality, and at the same time shocking. Feminism in the west is facing a significant backlash from younger generations who are embracing“sexual freedom” and “freedom of expression and lifestyle” as an anti-feminist stance. There is not only gross misinformation within the current popular culture of what feminism stands for, but also a significant disenchantment within its own ranks.

There is talk of stagnation, of irrerelevance, of extremism, and of course of disempowerment. As western feminist routinely take stock of their achievements with analysis of countless statistics they have begun to lose sight of the looming tsunami crashing on the shores of their global sisters.

 

 

The Silent Feminism

http://genderinglobalgovernancenet-work.net/comment/the-silent-feminism/

 

The brutal sexual assault on the 23 year old physiotherapist in one of the posh areas of Delhi has left many of us traumatised and speechless. The assault left her abdomen severely damaged and she has had her entire intestines surgically removed. Social media is rife with comments and updates. For a change, even some Indian men have come forward to reflect on their upbringing and the roots of patriarchy while media has been relentlessly pursuing this case, reporting all the protests and anger in Delhi and the latest developments. From my Australian home, I have seen the major news outlets in Australia cover this horrific news and yet have noted, with disappointment, the silence of my Western feminist colleagues and friends on this issue (please see Note [1]). I have not seen any international petitions generated from this site condemning this act of brutality and the Indian government’s failure to protect its women citizens. I have not seen debates in the social/media in which Western feminists have said much. Those who are quick to condemn their governments who kill women and children in drone attacks in Afghanistan or Pakistan, or who are quick to point out that Western policies have endangered lives of civilians in many parts of the world, find no words to speak out against violence that women in the Global South face repeatedly and everyday. Violence against women that is routinely normalised in certain cultures, in certain societies, in certain countries, and violence that cannot be traced to Western militarism or Western foreign policy does not find easy critics. That would not be politically correct nor would it reflect commitment to anti-racism, perhaps.

Not long ago when Adele Wilde-Blavatsky wrote an article on why she abhors the burqa and thinks it is oppressive towards women in general, it irked many Western feminists and Muslim-feminists alike. An intense personal attack and slander followed in the social media and on the website where the article was published, accusing the author of simplifying the issue, of being a white middle class racist who could not look beyond her own privilege. How dare she have an opinion on an issue that she did not understand in her Islamophobic and racist mind? Following the backlash her article was withdrawn from the feminist wire website and a signature campaign was launched by Western feminists (mostly US based academics) to discredit her argument and point out its flaws. Instead of engaging the author in a respectful manner, feminists chose to censor what they perceived as an inappropriate attack on the Muslim community. Some of us who tried to argue for reason to prevail and debate to continue were hailed as ‘white supremacists’ in disguise. The argument was reduced to mere skin colour of its propounder. Silence and censorship became feminist tools.

The brutal rape in Delhi and for that matter series of rapes including of little girls as young as two years old, complete apathy of the government, the skewed sex ratio and unabated female foeticide and infanticide, high levels of domestic violence against women in India, none of this is significant enough for an international signature campaign or for any media release that can condemn this incident. I am convinced that news about this in the media must elicit predictable responses, of the bias and prejudices of the Western media that sensationalises any news about violence in ethnic communities and violence against women in the Global South. The ostrich approach helps, as I have written elsewhere.

Third wave feminism clearly suggested to us that the global sisterhood is a myth and the concerns of women in different parts of the world are different. More importantly, we were powerfully reminded that feminists in the Global North cannot speak for women in the South nor assume any emancipatory role to ‘liberate’ their sisters in the South. However, when (patriarchal) cultures, traditions become categories to defend rather than women, feminist commitment appears on rather shaky grounds, plagued by its own contradictions. One would have thought recognising ‘cultures’ as a category of oppression rather than something that must be preserved in the name of identity politics would come naturally to feminism. Not so these days, for, critics of culture are lampooned and chastised severely for being insensitive, ignorant and racist. When Egyptian feminist, Mona Eltahawy says something about the misogyny in the Middle East it seems to outrage feminists far and wide. Petitions, media articles, interviews, social media updates all work together to discredit her views without engaging her. The same feminists have nothing to say on specific cases of violence against women in the Global South for that would be racist. Interestingly they had no complaints when Robert Fisk argued along similar lines as Eltahawy. Bizarre logic, this.

Many of us (from the Global South) journeyed long and hard and embraced homelessness to make sense of our lives which would otherwise have been policed under strict patriarchal norms. Patriarchy would have denied us the most valuable and empowering tool we have today, education, with which we express ourselves and craft our own destinies. I live in Australia and earn my living here and yet I know that the gang rape survivor in Delhi could have been me or anyone I know. The banality of this crime is the reason why this case has touched a raw nerve for most of us, not the fact that the raped girl is from the middle class, as Arundhati Roy would have us believe. It finds resonance in the stories some of us have wilfully forgotten in our quest for a life of dignity and self-respect. It reminds us of our past world when the daily struggle was not about wages or getting an education but dealing with flashing penises and groping hands, violating our bodies with impunity. Hence, the anger, the rage at this brutal aggression on the woman who today battles for life in Delhi. Hence, the protests for justice not just for this one woman but many others who have to live under misogyny.

Abuse has been the ‘normal’ part of many of our lives, not an exception but the rule. I know I am not alone as I recall moments of abuse and assault from near ones and strangers. I am not alone as I recall the shame I was made to feel every time a man looked lecherously; I am not alone as I recall how I was made to hide my body and cover it in layers for it would attract undue attention; I am not alone as I recall lewd comments and masturbating men in the dark alleys of Delhi; I am not alone as I recall the nightmare of getting into a DTC or blue line bus in Delhi, being groped by a dozen hands; I am not alone as I recall avoiding the aisle seat in the bus for fear of a male crotch shoved at me or rubbing on my shoulders; and I am not alone as I recall being told several times by the conscience keepers of society that I should not ‘provoke’ bad behaviour in men. Buried deep in the subconscious mind are those moments of rage and agony, of complete helplessness when you complained and yelled while everyone around you thought it was good tamasha (entertainment). A million such indignities suffered daily, at home and in the public space, where there was neither security nor respect. Perhaps that is why homelessness comes easy to women, for ‘home’ we are told is

where we should feel secure.

This is not the first case of brutal rape in either India or South Asia. Rape as a political weapon to teach lessons to the ‘enemy’ has been very common. War time rape or rape of women in displacement/refugee camps has been seen in Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nepal. Indian security forces have raped women in Kashmir and Northeast with impunity while women in poor villages in Pakistan and Afghanistan have been raped and exchanged to resolve clan/family disputes. Rape is also normalised in homes of the wealthy as a cultural weapon in the hands of patriarchy. Not to mention marital rape which doesn’t find any mention in public discourses. There are reports of one rape in every 20 minutes in India. Rape does not distinguish women of classes, creed, religion, region, race. It is targeted at specific gendered bodies of females. Arundhati Roy has argued that the recent Delhi rape protests are an eruption of the middle class. This is a crass, insensitive comment from a thinker from the left tradition which has always chastised middle class women for upholding a patriarchal morality. Roy is no different from those Western feminist colleagues I am addressing here who are silent or less outraged today because the rapists are not ‘white’ men or soldiers oppressing the poor female of colour.

Rape is what it is and succeeds in its impact because it is not considered a ‘crime’ but a matter of great shame for women. Rape is supposed to not just physically harm the woman but is also considered an act that destroys her ‘honour’ and that of her family/community. As long as such tags of honour and shame continue to be attached to women’s bodies, rape or any violence against women will not stop. The pain of the woman battling for her life in Delhi’s Safdarjung hospital reminds us of our pain too. It opens old wounds for many of us who experienced the indignity of assault and abuse on our bodies and chose to keep quiet, or fought in the midst of jeering crowds that loves a spirited woman or two for purposes of entertainment. Sometimes we gave up not because we didn’t believe in the fight but because we were too tired and we decided to choose our fights in life. Feminism’s ‘tool box’, as an esteemed colleague and mentor always mentions, is useful and has everything for every occasion. Perhaps, we began to choose our tools very carefully.

As a feminist then, I wonder at this silence that I can hear so loud. The lack of self-reflection among feminists is profound these days. The inability to empathise is astounding and the mimicry of the mainstream is becoming the norm than exception. We are obsessed as feminist academics and activists about where we publish, how we are seen, what we speak and where we stand, who notices us and who we speak for. We are concerned about whether what we say looks good on our CVs or in our public persona, whether we are on the side of the ‘progressives’, whether our politics looks good and popular. Saying unpopular things or taking radical positions is no longer fashionable or desirable. The comfort of the’ ivory tower’ from where we preach is good enough. Our job is done as soon as we have made the judgement of where we want to be seen/to belong. My disappointment grows by the day and I am not alone I know. Away from family and away from the troubling experiences, to tame my restless mind, I pursued education and learnt to ask questions of myself. I sought a home among like-minded colleagues and friends and in the moral/ethical framework of feminism, that would recognise differences and yet put women first; feminism that believed in debate and discourse and not a certain popular opinion as ‘progressive’; feminism that would not just think of diversity as tokenism but would truly strengthen its core foundations, above all feminism that would not just be an academic ‘ism’, but one which would stand for a better informed world and would open up terrains of knowledge, inquiry and experiences than fencing them.

That feminist ‘home’ has begun to look unfamiliar these days. Many of us agonise over the Delhi rape as it opens old wounds and we experience pain we had long supressed. It reminds us of how our own lives are as much a matter of chance given the patriarchal worlds we come from as it is of our hard work and opportunities that we embraced. The indifference of our feminist sisters and colleagues in times like these adds to that pain and grief. The silence of feminists is deafening, perhaps louder than the screams of every woman raped in every part of the world.

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[1] I want to acknowledge here that there is a dominant Western feminist discourse that is anti-imperialist and rooted in the left tradition. There have been diversity of views on feminist methods to be deployed but the emergence of the hegemonic Western feminism is a point to be noted. My problem with this hegemonic Western feminism is that it places all other categories: race, class, culture, religion etc. before gender and has also stopped looking for hyphenated categories in the process. More importantly, this Western feminism ‘others’ women of the Global South by selectively addressing issues only linked to Western governments and patriarchal practices. There is a fierce ‘marking of territory’ in which the dominant concern relates to the questions of whose arguments are more authentic because of how they are positioned.

Women’s bodies and (en) gendered political violence in South Asia

https://gritprajnya.wordpress.com/tag/south-asia/

The feminist axiom that ‘personal is political’ comes to mind while studying cases of political violence that include terrorism, armed insurgencies and communal riots. Women are part of the political violence landscape in three significant ways: as victims and survivors, as perpetrators; and as cultural bearers of ethnic, religious and national identities. In a short piece like this it is not possible to engage all questions around women, gender and political violence. I would like to focus on two important aspects – women and girls whose bodies continue to serve as battle ground and whose complex experiences of violence are reduced to ‘bare life’ stories of victimhood where women are further disempowered and kept away from peace processes and conflict resolution.

This piece is being written in the backdrop of the terrifying ordeal of the Pakistani teenager, Malala Yousufzai, from Swat who was shot by Taliban militants for praising the American ‘enemy’ and of propagating ‘secular’ values by advocating education for girls. Bizarre accusations, one would think. Malala recovers miraculously in the quiet surroundings of a hospital in the UK while her ordeal bears testimony to the fact that all militant projects and political violence are waging a ‘war on women’. A fourteen year old, school-going, teenage girl becomes a ‘threat’ to a militant group’s (Tehrik-e-Taliban in this case) ideology and their masculinity that is usually validated by erasing women out of public spaces, by issuing religious diktats of violence against women and by bombing and killing girls in schools and women in market places and shrines. Not long before this case a 14 year old girl affected by down’s syndrome, Rimsha Masih, was perceived as threat by extremists and fundamentalists. She was accused of burning pages of the Koran and charged under the notorious blasphemy laws in Pakistan. She was subsequently acquitted of the charges after an Imam was accused of falsely planting burnt Koran pages into the pile of papers she had burnt. Her life continues to be threatened and a normal childhood is denied to her.

There are many Malalas and Rimshas in the world today. Militant groups in Afghanistan perpetrate violence and abuse against women with ease, despite aid dollars pouring in and government pledges to fight terrorism and extremism. Extremist groups in Pakistan target women and girls (Muslims and non-Muslims) indiscriminately. The situation is no different in India, where Maoist women cadres are targeted by their own comrades who rape and abuse them. The state does no better when security forces kill ‘Maoist’ women and carry them like animals for barbeque. The rape and torture of women in custody is also common (Soni Sori’s case is a brutal reminder here) and dehumanising women who are considered as the ‘other’ is the norm. In Sri Lanka, former women cadres of the LTTE have not been spared either, as they are abused, raped and marginalised while the government propaganda machinery talks about its benevolent rehabilitation efforts. It is, therefore, not without significance that large numbers of women continue to be soft targets in acts of political violence (by state and non-state actors) and this factor needs to be exposed and highlighted consistently.

The fallout of this violence against women is their absence in formal peace talks and conflict resolution processes. This is based on the widely held belief that men participate in armed resistance and thus ‘sacrifice’ their lives and freedom for their ethnic, political or religious group. Women, on the other hand, perform multiple roles in wars and political violence, including as armed guerrilla fighters, militants and support systems. However, their experiences are only documented in public memory as ‘worst sufferers and victims’. Lack of social and political recognition of their participation in armed resistance (for example in Kashmir, Sri Lanka etc.)* has resulted in their exclusion from all peace talks. The message from such situations is that stakeholders in peace must have served and sacrificed in the war and it is usually men who are recognised in their war roles. Increasingly, feminist scholarship and activism has challenged this notion of what women ‘do’ in wars and articulated that women’s voices are critical in not just engendering and sustaining a conflict but also in its resolution.

There is another aspect to this exclusion of women in resolutions of political violence and conflict. ‘Peace’ deals are waged on women’s bodies as we witnessed in the case of the Nizam- e -Adl resolution negotiated between the Taliban and the Government of Pakistan in February 2009. Under the “peace for Sharia” deal the Taliban agreed to stop its armed campaign in the Swat region and surrender its arms in exchange for the legal enforcement of the Sharia laws. Sharia courts would interpret civil rights according to Islamic strictures and women would be veiled and pushed into a life of invisibility, violence and abuse. This deal subsequently collapsed because the Taliban refused to disarm but it highlighted how wars – and also peace – are waged on women’s bodies. In many parts of Afghanistan, women and girls continue to be exchanged as part of the practice of baad or informal conflict resolution. The violence against women continues even if there are policies and laws to prevent it.

As someone who studies political violence and insurgent wars, I conclude with the conviction that political violence has deep implications on the personal lives of people and is particularly played out on women’s bodies. Feminist discourses, in recent times, have been increasingly divided over the universal application of human rights, gender equality and respect for local cultures and traditions (this debate did not end with the Shah Bano case in India!). We would be doing great disservice to our own feminist activism and scholarship if we argue that violence against women is acceptable in any culture and tradition. Political violence thrives on ideologies that ‘other’ women and justify violence against them. The way forward lies not just in exposing these cultures of violence but in articulating our fundamental feminist commitment that critiques and questions traditions and cultural and religious practices that marginalise women and inflict violence on them. I am always reminded of the poet Sahir Ludhianvi’s powerful words;

Zulm ki baat hi kya, zulm ki auqaat hi kya
Zulm bas zulm hai, aaghaaz se anjaam talak
(What is about oppression? What is with its impression?
Oppression is, all of it, but oppression. From beginning to end.)

For further references on these and related topics see the following.

• Alison, Miranda (2004), “Women as Agents of Political Violence: Gendering Security,” Security Dialogue, 35, 447–463
• Moser, Caroline and Fiona Clark, eds. (2001), Victims, Perpetrators or Actors? Gender, Armed Conflict and Political Violence (New York: Zed Books)
• Parashar, Swati (2011) “Gender, Jihad, and Jingoism: Women as Perpetrators, Planners, and Patrons of Militancy in Kashmir”, Studies in Conflict & Terrorism, 34: 4, 295 — 317

Violence, Migrant Women and the Ostrich Approach

Published in Asian Currents (Dec. 2012)

http://asaa.asn.au/publications/ac/2012/asian-currents-12-12.pdf

Joumanah El Matrah is the Executive Director of the Australian Muslim Women's Centre for Human Rights. In her article, Misrepresenting Migrant Violence, carried by the ABC on its website on the 29th of October, 2012, she argued how cases of violence against women were being represented in the Australian media as cultural problems in migrant communities or as ‘spectacular’ violence happening in some distant non Western locations. She cited feminist theorising around violence to talk about the exotic/erotic nature of violence and pointed out how media reports in Australia often seem to convey that, “violence and oppression are core to minority migrant cultures. It is something they import with them when they migrate and it is their dirty little secret they keep as they settle into Australia.”

As someone who teaches feminist international relations and researches on global patterns of political violence, I have bad news for the author. I do not necessarily bring up my own ethnic/migrant positionality (of Indian origin) in my writings but in this case it might add that due authenticity to my arguments that many feminists are more concerned about than the strength of the argument itself. And finally, as someone who has been a witness to the suffering of a friend exposed to domestic violence by her ethnic migrant partner, I would like to argue that being an apologist of one culture or another and speaking from our perceived moral high ground from where we preach ‘human rights’ of minorities and migrants is not going to help the situation much.

Fact is that in Australia the level of violence faced by migrant women (from South Asia, Middle East and Africa) is much higher than domestic violence faced by white Australian women. A careful study of the Anti-Violence Orders sought by migrant women will reveal a dismal picture. The cultural factor becomes even more significant because many of these women are unable to seek help even when laws are in place to protect them. In many cases, as even the author agrees, the governments and law enforcement turn a blind eye to abuses faced by migrant women. In the high profile case of the Indian Sikh couple which made news recently in Victoria, the woman had sought AVO against her husband who repeatedly committed breaches but the police failed to act on her complaints.

The author contradicts herself as she advocates specific policies targeted at protecting migrant women from abusive partners. That is ofcourse pertinent but cannot happen unless it is acknowledged in the first place that these women face unprecedented levels of violence coming from cultures in which beating/bashing women is a commonplace offence. Violence against women is not taken seriously by their families or by the law enforcement in their ‘home’ countries. Many migrant women are vulnerable, first time foreign travellers who have no support systems in place and carry with them their cultural baggage in which speaking out against their partners/husbands is not an acceptable, approved course of action. In the case of my friend, a highly educated medical professional, the violence came from a husband who thought intimidation and abuse was the ‘normal’ thing to do. Violence does not discriminate. It targets the professional and the home-maker alike and those who speak against it, like the Sikh woman Sargun Ragi, they pay the price with their lives.

Turning a blind eye to crimes being committed within migrant communities is not going to help the cause of human rights or gender equality. Respecting minority cultures cannot imply living in denial and ignoring (dis)honour killings, emotional and physical abuse, domestic violence, female foeticide and genital mutilation practiced within certain communities all in the name of one culture or another. Female foeticide in Australia is practised by migrant women from Middle East and South Asia. Ultrasound doctors are approached by families to determine the sex of the foetus and organise the medical termination of pregnancy of female foetuses. Similar cases of foeticide and declining sex ratio of girls born to women of Indian origin has been noted in a recent study by the Canadian Medical Association Journal. We cannot pretend that “cultures” have nothing to do with these cases. All other cases of violence the author mentions about non-Western women; beheadings, gang rapes, acid throwing, public executions and stonings are all unfortunately true and the cultural relativism argument cannot obfuscate the reality, irrespective of what one chooses/wishes to read in the Western media or not.

The author dismisses the Western media portrayal of Pakistani girl Malala Yousufzai’s shooting by the Taliban and of the brutal murder of a young Afghani girl who refused to be coerced into sex work as cases of ‘spectacular’ violence. As someone associated with a Centre for Women’s Rights, she should know better. These cases are neither spectacular nor exceptional. Many girls and women in conflict zones in Pakistan and Afghanistan are subjected to violence of this kind at a daily level. Reporting on these events does not imply that there should be a disclaimer published everytime that “violence happens in Western societies too!’. Recognising violence among ethnic communities does not mean denying the violence against women in Western societies. These cases got the media attention they deserved because of the resistance these girls put up against the diktats of their own culture, tradition. The author, instead, could have worried more about why a ridiculous film on the Prophet Mohammed (not even seen by many people) made by an racist bigot, caused so much protest world-wide that also spiralled into violence, while not much was heard when a teenage girl (guilty of wanting education!) was shot by the Taliban all in the name of religion. If the shooting of one girl, the brutal murder of another is not worthy enough for people to galvanise a protest against their own societies and cultures, it is a more worrying trend surely?

Yes, certainly migrant women are entitled to citizenship, residency rights and protection against violence under the Australian law. But adopting the ostrich approach and having the head buried in the sand is not going to help the situation. What is so fundamentally radical about claiming that cultures, traditions and religions can be violent towards women? My appeal to the author and others who may think like her: let us decide who we want to protect and defend….women or cultures?

Ajmal Kasab’s Execution: Why there is no reason to celebrate

Paper No. 5306 Dated 22-Nov-2012

http://www.southasiaanalysis.org/node/1068

Guest Column: Swati Parashar

When the tragedy of 26/11 unfolded in 2008, the trauma was felt far and wide. I was a PhD student in the UK and, far away from home, I shared the grief with millions of Indians as we wondered why Mumbai deserved the gory blood bath. The Chabad house hostages were tortured before being killed by the ten men from Pakistan, to avenge what was happening to the Palestinians. Travellers at Shivaji terminus, those enjoying dinner or an innocent cup of coffee at café Leopold and those at the Taj hotel had their lives extinguished in a matter of hours because in the bloodthirsty play written and directed by the Lashkar-e-Toiba based in Pakistan, these people had to ‘perform’ the enemy. A young engineering graduate from my hometown Ranchi, who was to get married in a few days, was killed in the shooting at café Leopold. He was the only child of his parents who were left grieving. The commando operation to save Mumbai from the attackers lasted three traumatising days (telecast live on Indian and world media) in which police officers and a commando officer were also killed and the intelligence failure laid bare for public scrutiny. A lone terrorist, Ajmal Amir Kasab, was captured and nine others were killed in the operation.

Yesterday (21st November 2012) that lone captured terrorist, the face of the Mumbai attacks was sent to the gallows in Pune’s Yerwada jail, in a secretly planned mission. This was the outcome of investigations and trials that have lasted four years and even though frenzied reactions and emotional responses have been reported in the media and social networking websites, we must surely all know that there is nothing to celebrate. Not only because of the moral foundations of this argument that celebrating the death of any person cannot have a place in a civilised society. While that maybe a good argument to consider, war and political violence have become a way of life and we have all developed a voyeuristic taste for the dead and gore. Remember the long queues with men, women and children wanting to have a last view of the dead Libyan leader Muamar Gaddafi and how the videos of his killing went viral? Remember the demands that the US show the bloodied body of Osama bin Laden, in the absence of which spam videos circulated extensively? We seem to have normalised violence and brutality to such an extent that we are unable to find meanings and contexts. In this case Kasab’s hanging raises more questions than it answers. It certainly has not brought about that closure that we so desperately seek, especially for the families of those who lost their lives.

I had written earlier that the commando operations during the attack left us speechless as we tried to come to terms with the fact that two or three terrorists at any given time can keep 100 or more elite NSG commandos engaged in a fierce gun battle for three days. The intelligence failure on India’s part was of mammoth proportions and though the government claims to have provided a number of dossiers to Pakistan, it has not been able to adequately convince us about how this planned brutality went undetected despite the huge intelligence network and security apparatus. The unease is paramount because we know this attack would not have been possible without the involvement of local people and yet, barring the usual rhetoric of blaming Pakistan entirely, we heard nothing from our government about its own failures or about how it intended to establish Pakistan’s culpability. Moreover, Pakistan continues to publicly declare that India has not been able to provide credible evidence against Hafiz Saeed, the LeT founder who masterminded and motivated these young men to wage the war on India.

Indian Foreign Minister, Salman Khurshid, brags in the media that his government has upheld the ‘rule of law’ while Maharashtra Chief Minister, Prithviraj Chavan propounds the virtues of Indian democracy and judicial system where Kasab was given a fair trial unlike what the US did to Osama bin Laden. The enthusiasm that justice has been served is absolutely misplaced because in 4 years since the dastardly attacks, what the government has to show is the hanging of one lone foot-soldier while the masterminds still remain protected and free in Pakistan. Atleast the US got the mastermind in bin Laden. Failure to build an international consensus and use public diplomacy to put pressure on Pakistan to respond to the dossiers is regrettable. That, the Congress party facing a no confidence motion in parliament in the winter session beginning today is going to gain political mileage out of this execution is not a surprise. Congress has traditionally always followed the path of appeasement, even if it is appeasing the opposition to stay in power. There are many other cases over which Kasab’s execution was given precedence. The timing of Kasab’s hanging definitely raises questions about its political nature and advantage to the government.

Shah Mehmood Qureshi, then Foreign Minister of Pakistan (whose fortunes have changed dramatically since) in a press conference, after the Mumbai attacks brazenly denied Pakistan’s role. He said, ‘Pakistan is a responsible neighbour and a responsible nation’. That ‘responsible nation’ not only denied that Kasab was its citizen initially till media investigations left no doubt, but also steadfastly refused to deliver on the evidence provided. This is despite the fact that Pakistani officials at every opportunity repeat like a mantra, "We are also victims of terrorism". Ajmal Kasab and thousand others like him are doomed in the choices they are forced to make as a heady concoction of poverty and jihadi ideology provides them with a sense of only ‘purpose’ in a rapidly deteriorating state. Not a single day seems to pass without news about militant attacks in Pakistan. While the government seems helpless the opposition is too busy blaming the American drones for every problem faced by the country. According to Pakistani media reports, police in Peshawar defused a suicide bomb vest on a 13 year old boy on November 20^th, 2012. The boy said that he was forced to carry out the attack on a fuel station. On November 21^st, 2012 two Shia Imambarahs in Karachi and Rawalpindi were attacked by suicide bombers and a number of people have been killed and injured.

The control of the madrasas and education that fans fundamentalism has only increased in a state that never tires of projecting itself as a victim of terrorism. There seems to be a never ending supply of the young who value death over life. The hanging of one Kasab will produce many others and there is no doubt that a new plan is being hatched somewhere for another war in which the Kasabs and those they kill are mere sacrificial lambs. These young men deserve a life of dignity and not violent death and gallows. Not taking action against masterminds and supporting the jihadi mindset in the name of freedom struggle in Kashmir or elsewhere makes Pakistan absolutely culpable in the murder of these men. Kasab apparently begged for mercy according to Indian media reports. That mercy has to come from Pakistan for thousands of Kasabs recruited by the JUD/LeT and other militant groups whose only ideology is to kill. It is justified to feel enraged at those who sent him, trained him and who continue to enjoy freedom and political protection in Pakistan. Kasab was only a foot-soldier who died because Hafiz Saeed wanted it. Justice has not been served.

Ajmal Amir Kasab’s execution also comes at a time when India voted against the UN General Assembly resolution banning death penalty earlier this week. India was among the 39 countries that voted against the draft resolution arguing that every nation had the "sovereign right" to determine its own legal system. India’s capital punishment is reserved for the 'rarest of the rare' cases and the Mumbai attacks certainly fit the category. Many peaceniks and left activists have argued that the President of India failed to show mercy, for mercy is reserved for the unpardonable of crimes. I have not resolved that conflict about capital punishment and would not condemn either side. It is reflective of these times when not only has death become a daily occurrence and a matter of celebration but that life has become invaluable, and life is privileged like never before. We avail of every moral, ethical, cultural, political framework and technological/scientific tool to prolong life and bask in its experiences. When you brutally terminate not one but 166 lives who have not directly harmed you in any way, justice according to many, may seem possible only when you forfeit your right to life. K. Unnikrishnan, father of NSG commando Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan who was slain in the Mumbai attack, has said that Kasab‘s execution is not a matter to “rejoice over,” but a “legal necessity.”

In his confessions, the videos of which are available on youtube, Kasab talked about his poverty and the promises of a life of fame, dignity and money that drew him to jihad. He appeared neither well versed with his religion nor was able to use religious vocabulary to justify his actions. Yes, he made the choices he did and it is true that not everyone who is poor takes to terrorism. In that Ajmal Amir Kasab was prepared for the end he met, even if it came 4 years later than he expected. For those rejoicing, actor Ashish Chowdhry’s words, whose sister and brother-in-law were killed in the Mumbai attack, might offer a moment of introspection. "Why should I rejoice Kasab's death? I will rejoice when little innocent children will stop being taught to kill in the name of god and religion; In these four years of awaiting and looking upon Kasab's sentence, I can bet lakhs of new Kasab's were born. Problem lies there. Rejoice when that stops." Kasab’s story will soon be forgotten in bigger rejoicing over the India-Pakistan cricket match series to be played in December this year.

With the rest of India I grieved much over the Mumbai attacks as over other acts of violence. Justice cannot be selective and if there are questions being raised about riots, killings in India that have gone unpunished, despite evidence available, they are important questions. With Kasab being hanged we have satisfied revenge, but not justice. Rejoicing will look humane and legitimate only when all masterminds and perpetrators of the Mumbai attacks are brought to justice but also those who have killed elsewhere in India, in the name of religion and ideology.

Dr. Swati Parashar is a lecturer in International Studies at the Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong, Australia. Her research, publications and teaching focus on terrorism and security studies; feminist international relations; and women, gender and political violence. She can be contacted at swatiparashar@gmail.com.