How did the idea of your first comic book come about?
To spare our daughter the regular hassles of a first birthday, we gifted her Kagazu: The Greenie, a comic book about an eco-friendly superhero. Based on our daughter’s habit, Kagazu eats paper and every time she does, somewhere on the planet, a new tree grows. Also, Kagazu has her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck as a protest against living in a polluted world. We decided to immortalise our daughter’s childhood through this comic.
How do your customers perceive comics?
I find it strange that for a lot of people comic is a laugh-out-loud concept. Their idea of it is very Archie-comics like. They are not interested in the narrative and mostly concern themselves with how much do the caricatures resemble them!
Why is there a sudden demand for personalised merchandise?
Earlier people used to hold onto the knick-knacks and cherish them for long. Today nobody has the time for that. Most of our comics draw stories from everyday life because we tend to let these moments slip away very easily. So we give people a chance to capture the annoying quirks and idiosyncrasies of their loved ones in a comic and hold onto it for posterity.
How do you plan to take this ahead?
I want to take comics beyond the realm of paper. Recently, I was asked to deliver a comic on a platter. It gave me an opportunity to brainstorm about what will make the ink permanent or what material to use. Photo frames and books are the usual choices but to experiment on a quilt or an umbrella is a challenge. Also, you can always push the edge using language and craft, for instance, designing a comic using kalamkari in Telugu.
Apart from everyday incidents, what other themes have you explored?
A trainer once asked me to create comic strips on sexual harassment in workplaces because it’s an uncomfortable topic for many to discuss. Also, I used to suffer from insulinoma and faced immense difficulty during its prognosis owing to the rarity of the disease. During this time, my husband began to sketch a comic about my illness which we have now decided to complete with an aim to create awareness about it.
‘I want to take comics beyond the realm of paper’
The Firefight: The Uphaar Crusade
She emerged a different person by waking up in the mornings and scanning newspapers for obituary columns. Literally. That’s how Neelam Krishnamoorthy’s day used to begin after she cremated her 17-year-old daughter Unnati and 13-year-old son Ujjwal. Fifty-seven other people had suffocated to death in Delhi’s Uphaar theatre along with her two children and the papers were full of pieces on how the victims had died slow, painful deaths.
The happy mother of two, who was preparing to send Unnati to college, was content being a partner in her husband Shekhar’s garment export business. Till June 13, 1997. As Neelam, who has now become a role model of sorts for women, says, “I had two choices. I could either sit at home and cry or go out and fight for justice.” She chose the latter mainly because of one thread that emerged from most of the newspaper pieces: that her children died only because of a negligent theatre management. Outrage overtook grief when she read that the Uphaar manager had walked out of the hall, cash box in hand, 15 minutes after the fire started. Fifteen vital minutes in which the victims could have been rescued. “I could not sit back and accept it as fate. All my relatives advised me not to take on a powerful lobby like the Ansals. They advised me to have another child but how could I bring another child into this world when I hadn’t been able to save the two we had?”
Neelam and Shekhar, deserted by their own families and their best friends, decided to create a new family. They scoured the obituaries and started calling homes of other victims. That’s how the Association for the Victims of Uphaar Tragedy (avut) was born. That day, she made a promise to her dead children — that she would ‘avenge’ them by seeing the guilty punished.
Despair and frustration have been constant companions. By day, Neelam is all grit and determination as she sits through prolonged court hearings, making copious notes, briefing the press and ensuring that Uphaar does not go the way Dabwali did. Four hundred school children had died in the Dabwali fire. Untiring when it comes to the court cases, she’s a different person back home. Tired, distraught, hurting like hell… She finds solace in her children’s room where their books, clothes and music is still arranged the way they left it. She has their faces smile back at her through pictures she refuses to garland.
Strength has come through the test by fire. She has broken down, sought a counsellor’s help and been on medication. “I sometimes feel like I have been served a living death sentence,” she says. But Shekhar is there to hold her. His export business has more or less wound up — he needed to travel to Italy and Germany almost every month but doesn’t want to either leave Neelam or the court cases behind.
Keeping the promise has been a physically and emotionally arduous journey. It’s been seven years and the case is still in the lower court. The snail’s pace of the judiciary is frustrating, but it’s satisfying too. With eminent lawyer KTS Tulsi spearheading its legal battle, avut has won a verdict according it compensation, to be paid for by the Ansals and government departments like the Delhi Vidyut Board. It’s not the money the members were looking for. What was important was that the rich and the powerful were asked to pay because they were seen as being culpable.
And so the fight continues. Step by step, bit by bit. Defeat and despair intervene, for a few moments, but the mother has a promise to keep. Not just to her children, but the entire avut family.
Seven long years after Uphaar…
Seven long years have passed slowly. Very slowly. Every morning has brought a rush of painful memories and every night, the shadows of despair have only lengthened. The mornings are particularly stark. That’s the time Shekhar and Neelam Krishnamoorthy’s house use to be abuzz. It was the time when their children — 16-year-old Unnati and 13-year-old Ujjwal — were in a mad rush to make it in time for school.
The mornings still arrive – with painful regularity and now it’s only their pictures that stare at the four walls of the house. Unnati and Ujjwal both died, panting for breath like the 57 others who were trapped in thick smoke in the balcony of the Uphaar theatre on June 13, 1997.
Bound by grief and anger, the families of the victims slowly got together to form the formidable Association of the Victims of Uphaar Tragedy (avut). And they have been fighting since then because the one thought that doesn’t leave them is the fact that their family members could have survived if only the theatre owned by the Ansals had complied with the safety regulations. But commercial interests had overtaken physical safety and extra seats had been constructed in front of the exit door and the screening of the film Border had started sharp at three even though there had been a fire in the transformer the same morning.
Tehelka accessed rare photographs in which the series of criminal violations tell a spine-chilling story. The movie hall proudly displays a broom where the fire extinguisher should have been and the public address system, mandatory under law sat in a corner but without a microphone. Not that the Uphaar staff even bothered to try and evacuate the victims. Instead, its management picked up the cash box and quickly exited to watch the fate of the victims trapped in the gas chamber.
Outside, the hair-raising death dance continued in the public glare. Fire tenders screeched their way to the hall, their sirens giving the first glimmer of hope to the relatives who had started arriving. But they were of little use — the hoses were damaged and the water tanks empty. The ambulances came, too, but only with stretchers and no oxygen. All they could do was carry the dead and add to the heap of bodies that had started piling up at the nearby All India Institute of Medical Sciences. Unnati and Ujjwal lay there, as did Tarika Sawhney. Seven years later, Tarika’s father Naveen Sawhney says, “I can’t sit back and tell myself that her death was part of kismet. It was murder by negligence.”
That is the point avut has been striving to prove for the last seven years. Fired by an accumulative desire for justice, the members have virtually been living out of courtrooms and lawyers offices. There have been moments when they have felt like giving up, especially when in court, the case is adjourned to a future date. Says Neelam, “I sometimes feel like it’s a crime to ask for justice in this country. The accused are given exemptions and allowed to holiday abroad. Their businesses are flourishing. We have lost everything we had and yet as victims we are only being further victimised.”
The will to carry on to “get justice for my dead children or I can hardly call myself their father,’’ as Shekhar put it, has given them some reason to believe in their fight. To continue in the hope that one day — some day — their battle will pay off.
Some of it has. avut filed a civil writ petition in the Delhi High Court and after daily hearings, Judges SK Mahajan and Mukul Mudgal passed a strong order holding not just the Uphaar management but also the mcd, the dvb and the dcp licensing guilty of violations. The court fixed a compensation amount of Rs 15 lakh for all the deceased below the age group of 20 and Rs 18 lakh for those above. While the Ansals were asked to pay 55 percent of the amount, 15 percent was to be paid by the three departments of mcd, dvb and dcp licensing. The Ansals were also slapped with an additional Rs 2.5 crore punitive damage. While the three departments submitted their share of the compensation money in court, the Ansals — through its company Ansal Theatre and Clubotels Pvt Ltd (atcl), of which Uphaar is a part — are dragging their feet on the pretext that they can’t pay the money unless they are allowed to sell the theatre which was sealed by the CBI as evidence for a criminal case which is still on.
The quest for justice has seen a determined avut cross many hurdles. The battle, in fact, has made many of its members into detectives of sorts. Determined to nail the Ansal’s lie about not being able to pay the compensation amount if they were not allowed to sell Uphaar, the members went digging and got hold of a list of other assets owned by atcl. The properties spread over Gurgaon, Ghaziabad and Kolkata are worth an approximate Rs 133 crore. The properties have all been pledged to various banks against which they have got Rs 133 crore. This vital list of properties only gave avut extra ammunition and they have now filed another contempt of court petition against the Ansals. Says senior advocate KTS Tulsi, the association’s lawyer, who is fighting the case free of charge, “They continue to behave as if they are a law unto themselves. They keep transferring their assets to other companies owned by them but our case is strong. Government departments conspired with them and tried to sing to the tune of a big business house but this case represents everything that is rotten with our system.”
There is another lie that the association is now seeking to nail. In a sworn affidavit to the court, the Ansals stated on a sworn affidavit that Uphaar could be sold as it was free of all legal encumbrances in March 1996. Documents in the possession of Tehelka clearly show the theatre had been mortgaged right upto July 2003.
Like Tulsi, the association has many well-wishers and that is the one hope that keeps them going. They have had some feelers for an out-of-court settlement but as Sawhney puts it, “It’s not money we are fighting for. I know my daughter will never come back and her laughter will never brighten my day but our fight will, hopefully, ensure a safer life for others.”
That is one lesson that the association members all seem to swear by. To fight for their rights. It matters little, any more that they are up against an influential business house. That’s the thought they have to remind themselves of, every morning and every night, when those shadows begin to lengthen.
‘I felt my voice was being exploited and cashed upon’
You’ve been a contestant as well as a judge for music talent shows. Are they helpful?
Talent shows are helpful in providing you with a platform where you can gain visibility. They hone your personality and help you become stage-smart. But everyone has to start afresh to buld a professional career. There is no way past struggles.
What insecurities or challenges did you encounter?
A bunch of them! I used to pant a lot during talent shows. While I’m at ease with a stage performance, the notion of competition and the presence of judges used to get to me. That’s the reason I never tried doing it again after Indian Idol! It was difficult for me to step out of my comfort zone and move away from Kolkata. Living alone and taking charge of finances isn’t easy either. But I’m glad it happened.
Did you face any stagnation in your career?
After Zara Zara Touch Me and Khwaab Dekhe for Race, I was typecast as a sensual voice, and started getting offers for only item songs. I felt my voice was being exploited and cashed upon. Not many were ready to experiment with it. So I decided to wait until I was offered something, which was not only commercial, but also creatively satisfying.
Any trait you could do without?
I have a tendency of not releasing pent-up emotions at the right time, which keep accumulating and then erupt suddenly.
Was becoming an actress a part of the plan?
I’d like to think of it as genes at play, just as it was with my singing — my father and uncle were involved in theatre. Destiny also played a major role in my first project Lakshmi. I wasn’t ready to undergo the struggle of an actor. Now I can sing, act and will hopefully get an opportunity to dance soon too, as it’s another of my passions.
How difficult was it for you to play a 14-year-old in Nagesh Kukunoor’s Lakshmi?
Initially I was apprehensive about playing the lead in Lakshmi, because it’s utterly difficult to comprehend and slip into the psyche of a young teenager who has undergone immense exploitation. I took workshops, had to discipline my body language and understand her psychology. A lot has gone into bringing out this honest narrative.
‘I hope I can be famous enough to be an a**hole someday!’
Edited Excerpts from an Interview
How did you become a part of Shyam Benegal’s Samvidhaan?
I have known Shama Zaidi and Atul Tiwari since my early days in Mumbai, and they invited me over to discuss this new project they were working on for Shyam Benegal. Like any other actor, the mere mention of Benegal sparked my interest and when they narrated the first episode of the series to me, I was floored with how organic, objective and thorough with the subject they had been. Also, I had never played the part of an anchor, or sootradhar before.
What kind of training and research went into preparing for this role?
Shyam sir is very particular about rehearsals and wanted to check my Hindi and Urdu diction before proceeding further. I also had to read the entire 10-hour script — not just my portion but also the lines of 155 other people which gave me a clear understanding of the context in which each event took place.
Shows of this nature often bring out the patriot within. Did you experience any of that?
My proudest moment came when I realised that our Constitution is an extremely inspiring and uplifting document with an immensely progressive vision. However, though I am proud of my nationality, I don’t curb people’s freedom or approve of becoming a militant in the name of patriotism. I recognise that there is a lot of injustice happening in the name of nationhood wherein the State uses national security as an excuse to exercise illegitimate actions, whether it is in the Northeast or Kashmir.
Is it important for an artist to have an active engagement with politics?
I distrust any concept that says art is neutral or art could be disengaged from politics and market forces. On the contrary, I am of the belief that art can and should be political. I am part of a group called ‘Swaang’, which is a protest music and theatre group. We perform plays and create music that reflects pressing social issues. Last year, we organised a weeklong campaign called Jurrat to protest violence against women. So, I do believe that art has tremendous power to bring about change and should, therefore, be politically responsible.
How did you make the transition from Listen Amaya’s Amaya to Raanjhanaa’s Bindiya?
Once you get a character, you slip into it and then build it gradually with a lot of conviction. Formal training in any kind of performing arts helps because it gives you a sense of rhythm and the discipline to deliver what is being asked of you by the director — I acquired all of this from having trained under Leela Samson.
Does the divide between commercial cinema and arthouse films bother you?
I have come to realise that if you do not break into the commercial space, you will not get an audience. I can do a hundred films like Listen Amaya and Madholal Keep Walking, and yet not get the visibility that films like Tanu Weds Manu and Raanjhanaa can get me. And the fact is that I have got my identity in the industry not from playing the lead in critically acclaimed films but from playing supporting roles in commercial films. So, I simply try to strike a balance between the two. However, whether it is arthouse or commercial, it needs to be a challenging performance.
The point at which fame suddenly replaces struggle — how overwhelming is it?
My first release was Madholal Keep Walking, a very small film that no one saw but did well at the festivals, following which there was Tanu Weds Manu, a stepping stone. Next came Listen Amaya, a lovely film that garnered critical acclaim but failed at the box office, and Raanjhanaa, which, of course, got me both visibility and fame. But there is no real end to an artist’s struggle. I am an outsider in this industry and I hope I get a chance to be so famous that I can be an a**hole!
aishwarya@tehelka.com
‘I firmly believe that the only way to be an actor is through theatre’
How did you venture into theatre/ acting?
I enjoyed imitating others as a kid and also participated in skits at school but never thought of pursuing theatre as a career. I was preparing for IIT but later joined Zakir Husain Delhi College to study maths honours. Around this time I attended a Spic Macay workshop by famous playwright-actor Habib Tanvir and that sparked my interest in theatre. I went on to act in a few of his group productions which marked the beginning of my acting career. Now I run my own theatre company called Proscenium Productions.
What are the factors that guide you while accepting a role?
I give a nod to any role that is offered to me as long as the location of shoot is appealing. I am passionate about travel and start visualising the whole experience! As an afterthought, you always have the systematic analysis of the character you are playing, your contribution to the story and how convincing is the director while narrating the story.
Are you often creatively dissatisfied with your work? How do you overcome it?
Ninety percent of the time I am dissatisfied with what I’ve done. In those moments I turn to people in my personal and professional life whom I consider wiser than myself and know will provide me with the perspective and guidance to tide over that difficult phase.
Which performances on the silver screen have made a lasting impact on you?
Rehman’s character Chhote Sarkar in Guru Dutt’s Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam and Motilal’s Chunni Babu in Bimal Roy’s Devdas are two performances in Bollywood that make me want to push myself in order to perform better. I also admire Ryan Gosling’s role in Blue Valentine.
Is a sudden rush of fame and attention overwhelming?
My look on screen is so different from my usual appearance that people fail to recognise me: I have therefore not experienced this rush! On the contrary, if I stumble upon anyone discussing my performance in a movie theatre, I attempt to introduce myself but get snubbed!
How differently do you respond to theatre and cinema as an actor?
I firmly believe that the only way to be an actor is through theatre. The ease and nonchalance comes over time. As for the rest, nothing is easy and everything is difficult.
‘The book was the catharsis I needed’
Edited Excerpts from an interview
What led you to write an autobiography?
I started to write when I was in custody for nine days in Tihar jail. Initially, I was recording a daily diary of the derailed and unjust investigation process of the Jessica Lal case. There were several attempts to silence me as a witness. I was accused of destruction of evidence in the Jessica Lal murder case and arrested after a Delhi court issued a non-bailable arrest warrant against me in a cheating and forgery case. It has been a life-threatening and transforming experience. The book was the catharsis I needed.
You have been an entrepreneur, a designer and a columnist. It seems as if the events of one single night changed everything. Is that how you see it?
It was a shattering blow. It was so unreal; seemed like a nightmare that would vanish the next day, but stretched on for seven years. I don’t wish it upon anyone.
You’ve written about your association with Shammi Kapoor and Raj Kapoor’s disapproval of the match. Looking back, how important was this phase of your life?
First of all, I discovered the meaning of desire, love and romance, in spades. In that generation, group love was the common denominator. Most friends were in love with someone or the other. Looking back, I feel like I was a fish in the same river. But I had to keep my romance tightly boxed in. It came with a lot of pressure; handling that was difficult.
Your book echoes the yearning for freedom as a teenager and the courage to tread unconventional paths. What made you challenge social codes?
The challenge was a natural force emanating from repeated rejections of my wishes at home. Without realising this, I had started to embrace the idea of challenge as my basic character. I tended to attract it everywhere and even thrived on it. Taking on the challenge of converting Hauz Khas village into an urban oasis of arts, fashion and dining was one such. This is who I am now. I challenge injustice in all its forms.
Where did the resilience to endure the loss of your parents to cancer stem from?
I suppose the courage and the resilience has arisen from standing up to challenges and believing in what is right.
Tree: My Story
Bina Ramani
Rupa, 310 pp; Rs 500
You’ve written about not having reacted sharply enough when you were being accused of aiding Manu Sharma and not co-operating with the police. What stopped you from justifying your stance?
What stopped me was a gag order issued by the police in court. Besides, the media had its guns trained on me. Bashing a fallen Bina sold a lot more than putting out a correct version that lacked sensation. Bad news sells much faster than good news, doesn’t it?
You have been sharply critical of the role media played in the aftermath of the Jessica Lal trial. Yet, it was a TEHELKA investigation that brought out the truth. Do you think media can ensure justice?
It is not a guarantee that the media can ensure justice but it can certainly carve the path to it. Conversely, it can derail justice when it becomes over-zealous about its point of view. The media in India is extremely powerful and can wield a lot of influence — it should, therefore, be thorough in its investigations.
You have written that Rajkumar Gupta’s movie No One Killed Jessica “painted the Ramanis, especially me, in a very damaging light”. Why do you think there has been an attempt to question your credibility as a witness?
I was the last witness standing. I made it too inconvenient for them to get a powerful man’s son freedom from jail.
Do you think you paid a heavy price for being a known figure in the Delhi power corridors?
Yes. If I had been a nobody, the Jessica Lal case would have evaporated within a week or two, until the next headline.
What gave you the strength to overcome the tumultuous decade after Jessica Lal’s murder?
My family, few close friends and my inner resolve. As human beings, we have an in-built reservoir of strength. Some of us get the opportunity to tap it when a crisis strikes. Maintaining one’s own integrity is the key.
aishwarya@tehelka.com
Art thou ready?
A Gigantic fibreglass head depicting an immortal baby born into new media, an oversized rubber stamp that gives a sly nod towards the bureaucratic system’s general direction, a human sculpture that sits calmly meditating in front of a wheel spraying mud on it and a steel-body tree that explores the building disconnect with nature – these are just a few of the exhibits that will be on display at the India Art Fair, 2014.
Into its sixth year, the fair is one of the most anticipated events in the Indian art calendar apart from being the “most important platform for facilitating dialogue exchange and trade in the region” for the arts fraternity. And this year, it promises to stretch the very limits of aesthetic imagination by collating creative genius across incredibly disparate genres.
Over 20 exhibiting booths and one thousand artists will showcase their vision through a range of contemporary and genre-bending works. Also, as many as 24 unique art projects have been lined up. But despite the immense scale of most of the projects one doesn’t feel too far removed from the artists’ ideas, and that may just be the beauty of IAF 2014.
Here’s a sampler of what the cognoscenti can expect this time around.
[cycloneslider id=”art-thou-ready”]
A Lose-lose presupposition
Congress Vice-President and putative prime ministerial candidate Rahul Gandhi told a TV news channel last week he believed his party would win this year’s Lok Sabha election. Given that a spate of opinion polls have predicted a drubbing for the shambolic Congress party, shocked commentators asked, does he really think so? If those around Rahul are to be believed, no, he doesn’t think the Congress is coming back to power. In fact, Rahul is beginning to reconcile himself to the possibility of the Congress scoring its worst-ever tally in Parliament, lower than the 114 it won in 1999. But Rahul is also increasingly of the view that the BJP, his party’s principal rival and the favourite of the opinion polls to form the next government, is going to be disappointed. And that in the BJP’s failure to score enough numbers would lie the chance of the Congress.
First, why Rahul has begun to accept that a third successive term in New Delhi is too uphill for his flamed-out party. “We have allowed the grass to grow under our feet for too long,” rues a key adviser of Rahul’s, wiser on hindsight. Yes, the quarterbacks of India’s most famous dynast concede, he should have been projected as the party’s prime ministerial nominee long ago. “When Rahul says he isn’t interested in power, he actually speaks the truth,” says an insider wryly. “But that’s also why he appears to have no killer instinct.”
Aides now say Rahul should have played on the front foot far more, aggressively dominating the government’s agenda instead of keeping a polite distance from PM Manmohan Singh, whose insipid leadership of the past four years has made his UPA-2 regime too toxic to defend. Aides also accept Rahul has no credible answers on why he didn’t act on corruption charges against his party’s governments and leaders, at the Centre and in Maharashtra and Himachal Pradesh.
Aides and advisers have been especially foxed by Rahul’s refusal (and of his mother, Congress party president Sonia Gandhi’s, too) to directly attack the BJP’s prime ministerial candidate Narendra Modi even though the Gujarat chief minister himself has been barbecuing them in his public speeches. Surprising aides, Rahul has turned down suggestions that he debunk Modi’s claim of having given good governance to Gujarat since taking charge of the state 12 years ago. He has even put a lid on attempts by the cadres to investigate and expose some of Modi’s claims of development as false. “Rahul has an aversion to dirty politics,” an insider says unhappily.
Another aide, however, insists Rahul is in no torpor and that it is political calculation rather than morals that is shaping his approach. For better or for worse, the Congress vice-president reckons that challenging Modi aggressively on economy and development would be counterproductive, given Gujarat’s rather upbeat economy that appears brighter compared with the national average as well as those of the Congress-ruled states. “The trouble is that Rahul is defensive about his party-led government’s performance, especially its inability to revive the economy and push back the charge of corruption,” he says. “Rahul wants to focus more on his party’s economic prescriptions for the lower classes that are above the poverty line but still outside the middle class.”
Another reason Rahul is reconciling to a Congress downgrade in this summer’s parliamentary election is that nearly the entire rung of the party’s senior citizens has abandoned him. The top guns are alienated by Rahul’s obstinate push for inner-party reforms that aim to break up the old boys’ club and force a culture of transparency. Naturally, this has alarmed the hitherto deeply entrenched interests who are quietly digging in for a prolonged entrenched warfare once the election is over. Since most satraps, and their second-tier leaderships in the states, control the party apparatus in their backyards, Rahul has become a lone ranger in his quest. Old-timers recall how his father, former PM Rajiv Gandhi, had tripped in the 1980s when he tried to radically overhaul the party. A failure to win for his party the forthcoming election would further erode Rahul’s capital, already much depleted in public imagination from losing a string of state elections.
Far-fetched as they may appear, the eerie prospects of an implosive takedown of the Congress party’s original dynasty in case of an electoral rout are real. In fact, the process of choosing candidates for the Lok Sabha election is presaging that later battle, as the old guard and the traditional factions are girding up to fight for Lok Sabha seats for themselves and their factotums. It is increasingly becoming a no-win for Rahul, who realises that while he may need to embrace compromise in distributing nominations, he alone would be blamed for the party’s loss.
Half that battle would be salvaged, though, if the BJP were to fall short of forming the government. That would require the largest Opposition party to be stalled at around 160-odd seats or less, a good deal short of the 272 it would need for a majority in Parliament. Some opinion polls this month have suggested the Congress could get around 100 seats and the non-Congress and non-BJP parties around 180. Rahul believes it would then be opportune for his party to back a Third Front government as it did in 1996 to keep the BJP out. The scenario is now prompting a new thinking in the Rahul camp on how to defeat the BJP. And the answer is the “Muslim voter” model, which suggests that Muslims vote for any candidate that they think is best suited to defeat the BJP.
The argument goes that the Congress should field lightweight candidates in constituencies where it does not have much scope to defeat the BJP, so that the anti-BJP voters consolidate behind a candidate from a third party. The proponents of this tactic are especially suggesting its application in Uttar Pradesh, where the Congress is unlikely to forge an alliance with either of the state’s two biggest parties, the ruling Samajwadi Party and former CM Mayawati’s Bahujan Samaj Party. The return of former Karnataka CM BS Yeddyurappa to the BJP has also thrown up the idea of either a tactical or unspoken alliance with the Janata Dal (Secular) of former PM HD Deve Gowda.
“The fact is that if Modi fails to bring the BJP to power, his political power would be hugely dented,” a Congress leader told TEHELKA. Having been out of power for a decade already, the BJP would then run a risk of falling into disarray, he said, which would give Rahul enough time to reshape the Congress party and be ready for the next election. In any case, in a scenario wherein the Congress party backs a minority Third Front government, Rahul would have the advantage of pulling out the support at a time of his choosing that would trigger a mid-term election, he suggested.
The Rahul camp is also making a distinction between Modi and the BJP. “Modi as PM would be unacceptable to many political parties that cannot win without Muslim votes,” says the Congress leader. Several such parties, including West Bengal CM Mamata Banerjee’s Trinamool Congress and Bihar CM Nitish Kumar’s Janata Dal (United), would be otherwise willing to join the BJP if Modi is kept out. For this reason, the Congress would be happier if the BJP is unable to shake Modi off after the results are out, which would then automatically bring a Third Front to coalesce.
“The funny thing is that over the past two decades, the Congress has lost Lok Sabha polls when it expected to win and won when it expected to lose,” says another leader with a chuckle. As a newly-installed president of the Congress, Sonia had led herself to believe she was well placed to lead her party back to power in 1999, which the incumbent BJP-led coalition unexpectedly won. In 2004, few had given the Congress even an outside chance to topple the NDA government, but the latter unexpectedly lost it.
ajit@tehelka.com
Victims Of The System
Ten years since June 13, 1997, the case filed by the Association of Victims of Uphaar Tragedy (AVUT) is still being heard in the lower court. avut did well when it lodged an fir alleging death due to negligence against the owners of the cinema hall, Gopal and Sushil Ansal, and 14 others including fire safety and mcd officers who had certified the place as being safe from fire.
The association is doing well by not losing hope, by not falling prey to the middle-class mechanism of coping with a tragedy that teaches you to tell yourself it was all part of destiny.
The fire in the transformer that sent bilious smoke into the cinema hall that asphyxiated the innocent film watchers was no accident. The hall was not safe and all the government departments that colluded to give the Ansals a green signal are guilty. So is the fire department and the health department. The ambulances that were sent were more like hearses because they had no oxygen with them. The fire tenders came, too, but with empty water tanks. The injured had no hope of surviving.
The distraught relatives got together soon after they had laid their loved ones to rest and started the Association, and if there is anyone to be saluted in this grim tragedy it is the Association.
But justice still eludes them. An order by the Delhi High Court to complete trial in the case by December 2002 went unheeded and the trial is still on. The court has had to step in once again and has mandated that the trial judge finish the case by August 31.
The relatives deserve justice. Ten years later, they are being made to feel like victims again; like victims of the system