Book Post 44 includes some of the titles received in the past few weeks. Wherever available Amazon’s Kindle widget has been embedded in the blog post. It will allow you to browse through the book before you decide to buy it.
Siddhartha Sarma is a journalist, writer and historian. He has covered insurgency, crime and law in the Northeast and other parts of the country and written for newspapers and magazines as an investigative journalist. His debut novel, The Grasshopper’s Run (Scholastic India, 2009), received the Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature in English in 2011 and the Crossword Book Award in 2010. His second novel, Year of the Weeds (Duckbill, 2018) is based on the land rights agitation in the Niyamgiri Hills of Odisha. His latest published work, Carpenters and Kings (Penguin Random House India, 2019) is a history of Western Christianity in India.
Why and how did you get into writing? Where do you find your stories? How long does it take from inception to completion?
A.: When I was seven, my school
was bringing out a commemorative magazine to celebrate an anniversary. I was
told anybody could contribute anything they liked for it, so I wrote an
approximately 400-word story based on real events. A bit of a tragedy. They
printed the story with no edits on the first page, with my name on it. But what
I remember now and in the intervening years is not the feeling of seeing my
name in print, or of reading my story in printed form, but the joy of writing
it, the process of slowly putting things together in my head and of banging it
out, over several hours, on my father’s old typewriter, literally sitting on
his desk because I was too short to type from the chair. The fear of making a
typo (which is such a frustrating experience on a typewriter, unlike on a
computer where a typing error is merely an inconvenience). I have found no
greater joy in life than in the process of writing a story, of entering or
discovering a world, and of narrating it for myself and for any reader I might
find. That is how I began writing, and what I still try to do.
I began my career in journalism as a
reporter. It is a much-repeated saying in the newsroom that a good reporter
never runs out of story ideas. I have never had a problem thinking up story
ideas. The problem is deciding which are worth taking up. One does not have
this luxury of choice as a reporter, but a writer has to be very selective
about which idea she will devote her time and energies to. If my time as a
journalist has helped me as a writer in any manner, it is in two: I can be
objective in deciding which stories to write and which to shelve, temporarily
or permanently. And second: I can be objective in editing my own work. One of
the criteria I have for deciding on a story is whether I have the competence to
write it. There are many genres that I have a bit of an interest in, but I know
I might not be able to execute a story in them very well. Such as fantasy or
science fiction.
The complete arc from story idea to research to writing and editing and the final draft depends on the length of the work, its complexity, scope of research and treatment. My first novel, The Grasshopper’s Run, took me a year and half to research and seven months to write. My newest non-fiction book, Carpenters and Kings: Western Christianity and the Idea of India took up nine years of research and eight months of writing. So it varies. But I do seem to spend more time thinking about a story than in actually writing it.
2. Is it only the long form of a novel that appeals to you? Would you ever consider other structures such as short stories or a series arc?
A.: My first work published in a book was a short story, in a humour anthology by Scholastic. Some other commissioned short stories have also been published. But, yes, I find the novel’s longer form more suitable for the kind of stories I have to tell. I have not yet thought of a series of books, although I can’t rule it out in the future. A standalone novel, however, suits the way I want to tell a story for one major reason. While working on a story, I spend a lot of time building the narrative arcs of individual characters. I go back in time, and also forward, into their futures. I create their backgrounds and populate it with other characters and circumstances. Most of these never get written in the final novel, but they do exist. So for me writing a novel is like baking a whole cake and cutting out just a slice of it for publishing. Or creating a tapestry and (again) cutting a slice of it. A short story might give me a much smaller, possibly unsatisfactory slice, while a series might need tough decisions about how many slices to make, or from which part of the cake or tapestry. So far, novels have worked for me.
3. How much research do you delve into before you begin writing a book? How do you organise your notes? What is your writing routine?
A.: Researching for a book is among the
most interesting parts of the writing process for me. Over time, I think I have
become a bit more organized in my methodology. The Grasshopper’s Run caused me a lot of anxiety during the
research process because I was not accounting for the volume of material I
would end up having. For instance, I asked my sources for visual material to
base my description of events and topography on, from the China-Burma-India
theatre of World War II. I asked for un-curated photographs. I received some
1,800 photos, and most were directly relevant to my research. I had to sift
through about 6,000 pages of correspondence and records from that theatre. For Carpenters and Kings, I examined 46
medieval and ancient manuscripts and translated seven of them from Latin
because the previous translations were themselves dated. So gathering material
is not a problem, particularly in these times. The more difficult part is
knowing when to stop researching, or learning to leave out the peripheral or
marginally relevant. Otherwise every book becomes a doctoral thesis.
I begin with a basic idea about the
plot, in case of non-fiction the general outline of my argument. The notes I
take from my research are based on their direct relation to this bare plot or
argument. The most directly connected bits of evidence or material gets the
highest weightage. Additionally, for fiction, any bit of non-fictional material
which can help flesh out a character’s story arc or background (that part of
the background which will get written rather than get left on the cutting room
floor) also gets priority.
I have no particular routine. My best time is late in the night, but the slow cooking that happens before the physical act of writing can happen at any other time during the day.
4. How did you decide to write historical fiction set in Nagaland during the Japanese invasion in WWII? And why write it for young adults?
A.: I wanted to base my first novel in the Northeast, as a mark of respect for my homeland. I thought a coming-of-age story during a conflict might work, because I had been asked to write a young adult novel by Sayoni Basu, then editor of Scholastic India. I did not want to base the story during any of the region’s numerous insurgencies, although I have covered them, because the political aspects of those insurgencies were too complex for a novel of the size I had in mind. That left the 1962 war and WWII. The actual fighting in 1962 took place in rather remote places where the human interest aspect did not play out much. WWII was, for my purposes, more suitable.
5. Did winning the 2011 Sahitya Akademi Bal Puraskar and the 2010 Crossword Award for Best Children’s Book for your debut novel The Grasshopper’s Run apart from pleasantly surprising you also put undue pressure on you to excel with your next book?
A.: ‘Pleasant surprise’ is very
appropriate. I was surprised and gratified that readers and people who know a
lot about children’s and YA literature liked the novel. It was very
encouraging, and I met some noted writers afterwards and received valuable
advice on writing from them. It was a very pleasant experience.
There has been no pressure. I have always been fortunate in the publishers and editors I have worked with. I just try to work on each story on its own merits, and don’t think much about expectations. The only expectation I have from myself is to write, at each stage, a better story than I have written before. If that happens, I am content. Ultimately, I have to write stories that I would like to read, and re-read.
6. Your second young adult novel, Year of the Weeds, is written nearly a decade later. The plot of the novel is reminiscent of the Niyamgiri movement of the Dongria Kondh Adivasis in Odisha who fought mining company Vedanta’s attempts to exploit their land and emerged victorious. How do you achieve this fine balance between journalistic writing and creating fiction for young adult readers?
A.: Year
of the Weeds is indeed based on the Niyamgiri movement and was inspired by
it, although the novel ended up containing elements from other similar peoples’
movements, while the workings of the government and companies is based on what
I have seen across the country as a reporter. I follow peoples’ movements and
Niyamgiri was inspirational and unexpected, so I wanted to commemorate it, even
though I suspect it was just a provisional victory. While writing it, I was
conscious that my treatment had to be that of a YA novel. However, I have also
tried to include in it ideas and insights I have had as a journalist covering
different aspects of India, such as how most Indians in the hinterland live,
how the government interacts and often exploits or victimizes them, and what
the true face of development is in these parts of the country. So, while it
remained a YA novel throughout, with the frame of reference being mostly that
of the two YA protagonists Korok and Anchita, I also tried to make sure these
insights and ideas were properly written into the plot.
Around the time that I began researching for The Grasshopper’s Run, I realised I could not continue as a reporter and simultaneously as a writer of fiction and non-fiction. I was increasingly not content with the limitations (as I saw it) of a reporter, at least in terms of autonomy. I wanted to tell stories which could not be accommodated within my work as a reporter. So I shifted to the desk and have worked as an editor ever since, while writing books. I chose writing at the expense of reporting. I have not regretted it.
7. You have an enthusiastic passion for the Crusades and yet your first narrative nonfiction was Carpenters and Kings: Western Christianity and the Idea of India. Why?
A.: I have studied the Crusades, and my
thesis for an M Litt degree was on strategy during the Later Crusades. I find
the Crusades very significant in understanding world history in general and
European history in particular, because those conflicts sit at the centre of a
wide range of connected events, including the Renaissance, the Reformation and
the Age of Exploration.
There is a number of good, accessible and recent works on the Crusades by scholars from the West, so I did not intend to write a work of my own, which would not have made any significant contribution to the subject. However, something interesting happened during my research for the thesis, which was a study of three proposals for crusades by scholars in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. One of these scholars, a Dominican monk, wanted to launch a crusade from India. My supervisor suggested that I could refer to a secondary source on what these Europeans were doing in India in the period before the Age of Exploration. We discovered that there was no work which explained the political history of Western Christianity in India in the pre-colonial period. In December 2017, I realized I had enough material for a book which dealt with this subject, so I wrote Carpenters and Kings. And yes, I did include a brief history of the Crusades in it, and one of the chapters is about the Dominican who wanted a crusade from India, because all these are connected events. What was the Dominican doing in India? Also, much later, what was Vasco da Gama doing here? The answer to both questions is the Crusades.
8. You write young adult literature, travelogues and non-fiction. This is a diverse range of genres. How did this happen?
A.: Each book happened in a specific context and for unique reasons. The Grasshopper’s Run was meant to be a YA novel. While researching it, I travelled in the Northeast and Myanmar, and afterwards wrote a series of emails describing my travels, which I sent to friends. These were read by a publisher, who asked me to expand them into a travelogue, from which East of the Sun (Tranquebar, 2010) happened. Meanwhile, I wrote two books for the popular 103 series by Scholastic, one on great travellers I admire and the other on historical mysteries. And then I wrote Year of the Weeds followed by Carpenters and Kings. I guess one reason why this is an eclectic mix is I follow a story to its natural place and write it accordingly. So we have a situation where, although history is what I am academically suited to writing about, Year of the Weeds is contemporary political fiction. I am comfortable with chasing a story wherever and to whichever genre it leads. I think the only concern for a writer should be whether the story is told well or not. Having said that, I am still learning, so if I discover that I should stick to specific genres, I shall do that.
9. Do the methodologies of research and writing for young adult literature and narrative nonfiction vary?
A.: It is possible that some researchers
might have different research methodologies depending on what genre they are
planning to write in. I do not have different methodologies. I choose a
subject, start reading about it, examine primary and secondary sources, select
those sources which are suitable for the story I have in mind, and then sift
through the material I obtain.
There are certainly differences in writing YA fiction and narrative nonfiction for general readers, including tone, scope, complexity of ideas, presentation of this complexity. In some ways, like channelling all the research into suitable concepts, narrative nonfiction is more challenging. In several other ways, like writing in a manner which holds the reader’s attention, and creating believable characters and plots, YA literature has its own set of challenges. Both are very rewarding genres to write in.
10. What are the kinds of books you like to read? Any favourites?
A.: I have followed several genres over the years, although now because of demands on my time I have to limit myself to those genres which I have consistently read. Of these, apart from literary fiction, I seem to have read crime and espionage fiction fairly consistently. Fantasy, which I was reading a lot of till some years ago, seems to have dropped off. I do not know if this is a temporary phase.
11. Who are the writers you admire and may have influenced you?
A.: These are among the writers I have liked almost consistently. In literary fiction: Peter Carey, JM Coetzee, Saul Bellow, John Updike, Ernest Hemingway, Graham Greene, Nelson Algren, John Steinbeck. In crime: Dashiell Hammett, Chester Himes, Henning Mankell, Elmore Leonard, PD James, Janwillem van de Wetering. In espionage: John le Carre, John Buchan, Len Deighton.
12. What next?
A.: Perhaps a dark story. One of the problems with India after 2014 has been we have been affected by the doings of the ideology and the people in power on a daily, personal level. On a daily, personal level, one finds it increasingly difficult to feel joy in most things, or to happily coast along choosing stories to read or tell at a leisurely, whimsical pace. I would have liked to write a story I was working on in 2013, but that will have to wait for some time. At the moment, we need stories that deal with or are related to the situation we have in India, or which go some way towards explaining things. We can’t ignore that. So, perhaps something dark, something angry.
Every week I post some of the books I have received recently. In today’s Book Post 33 included are some of the titles I have received in the past few weeks.
Every week I post some of the books I have received recently. In today’s Book Post 32 included are some of the titles I have received in the past few weeks.
Every week I post some of the books I have received recently. In today’s Book Post 31 included are some of the titles I have received in the past few weeks.
During the course of a long and distinguished career, historian and public intellectual, Romila Thapar has produced a unique body of work. Her original and path-breaking commentaries and essays on ancient Indian history, along with her incisive writings on culture, society, archaeology, philosophy, classical literature and education have inspired a growing number of historians, scholars, public intellectuals and ordinary people alike. In this Festschrift, Romila Thapar’s students and colleagues from across the world celebrate her contributions by applying her methods and insights to a range of historical, philosophical, sociological and cultural questions. Questioning Paradigms, Constructing Histories aims to bring Romila Thapar and her pioneering work to the attention of a wider audience. According to Romila Thapar: ‘…an enquiry should begin with a question… The question may be something quite simple, the answer to which will further qualify what you are saying. Or it may be a question that gives you the possibility of looking at the event or the person in history from different points of view. And that one question then leads to other questions that reflect these different points of view. So I would say that the fundamental approach to any piece of research or what one is working on grows out of a question.’ The book is divided into five parts—‘Political Processes’, ‘The Symbolic and the Social’, ‘Historical Consciousness and Reconstructions’, ‘Looking Beyond India’, ‘The Past and the Present: Dialogues and Debates’. Each part focuses on a theme that Romila Thapar has worked on and topics that she has returned to time and again. Together, they showcase her exceptional achievements as one among the best historians of our time.
There is plenty in this book to mull over. It is impossible to do justice to this magnificent volume of essays. Here is an extract from Prof. Thapar’s response to the essays included in the book. This particular section is her comment on creating history textbooks for school students. In this essay from which the extract is taken Prof. Thapar reiterates that it does not matter how good the textbook is, it still requires the teachers to convey to the school student that the textbook is saying. It is imperative that the teacher be trained to think about the subject and brought up-to-date in their thinking otherwise they will not recognize the changes in disciplines — the paradigm shift. The teachers cannot expect their student to parrot the book to get the requisite grades. “That is not education”.
The extract from Questioning Paradigms,Constructing Histories edited by Kumkum Roy and Naina Dayal is reprinted by permission of Aleph Book Company
…I would like to say something
about the textbooks that we wrote. These have been part of a controversy over
textbooks during the last half-century, and it still continues. I think the
point that was made in the discussion about the context in which a textbook is
written is extremely pertinent. Why did I write these textbooks in 1963 and
1964? May I take five minutes and be a little autobiographical?
When I returned to Delhi from the
School of Oriental and African Studies in 1961, UNESCO asked me to survey a
representative sample of the major history textbooks that were being used in
schools, in the territory of Delhi. I was sent a pile of about two dozen
textbooks, which I went through, making careful notes on what they stated. They
were absolutely appalling by any standards. I sent back my report saying that
these books should be scrapped and shouldn’t be used in schools because their
content was of such poor quality and in some cases quite erroneous. Unknown to
me, UNESCO sent that report to the Ministry of Education. In those days, we
could claim that we had that rare person, an enlightened education minister, Mr
M. C. Chagla. He argued that school textbooks are absolutely fundamental and
their quality has to be vetted by professionals.
So the Ministry decided that new
and reliable textbooks were needed. It did the usual thing and set up a
committee, which consisted of R. C. Majumdar, Bisheshwar Prasad, etc., all the
doyens of Indian history of that time. I received a letter from Professor
Majumdar inviting me to write the textbook on Ancient India for Class VI, i.e.
for twelve-year-olds and later on Medieval India for Class VII. He would hardly
have known me as my book on Ashoka had only just been published, but he
probably wrote to me because I had done the report. This was followed by an
official letter from the Ministry of Education. My first reaction was not to
accept the invitation, arguing that I had been trained to do research, not to
write textbooks for children. Then I thought about it and discussed it with
friends who urged me to do it for what was then referred to as ‘a national
cause’. So when I was convinced, I agreed to write them. My problem was
precisely that I didn’t know how to write for children. I realized that the
toughest thing in my life was going to be writing these textbooks. Why? Because
you have to be on the top of the subject, you cannot talk down to children, and
you cannot take any shortcuts by using jargon. You have to be absolutely clear.
I was fully aware by now of the role of history in creating identities and I
was concerned that the identities my textbooks would help create, should not be
the narrow single-minded identities of religious, caste and linguistic nationalisms,
but that there would at least be an exposure to more all-inclusive identities
of nationalism in the context of secularism and democracy. This I suppose was
how I interpreted what was termed ‘a national cause’. I was seeing the future
of India as a continuation of the identity of the Indian as an inclusive
identity that had been created in the anti-colonial movement. Its goal of
independence implied the creation of a new secular society with an inclusive
culture that characterized the Indian citizen.
I spent a couple of years in
writing these textbooks, and trying them out on some of the children of the
right age that I knew. What was it that led to this, and how was it a national
cause? The intention was to explain to children that history is no longer
treated as just a narrative about kings, queens, battles of the past, but it is
a way of explaining that important events of the past had to be understood in
terms of how and why they occurred; and also in showing that history is not
fiction. History was now an attempt to understand what happened in the
past—how, why and when—and explain it. Further that history was not limited to
royalty or to the past of any one community, but that it concerned events in
the life of the larger society, of the many communities that constituted the
Indian people. The 1960s were the beginnings of social science in India, so
everything that is stated to have happened had to have some modicum of
explanation as to why it happened. And of course, sometimes the explanations worked
and sometimes they just did not. Some children did say that it was so good not
to have to memorize the dates of kings, queens and battles. But there were
other reactions from the young. A few years down the line, the then youngest
member of my family asked me in exasperation one day why I had written such a
boring textbook.
Anyway, writing those textbooks was
an attempt to reach out as mentioned in the discussion and to provide a more
appropriate history. The main thing was that one was treating children as
thinking beings and trying to encourage them asking questions. They have to be
told that this is the way I think about it and this is what I am conveying to
you. This is not something that you just learn by heart, you parrot, and you
leave it at that. It must provoke you to ask questions. The syllabus was given
to us—the authors of the six textbooks to be written for middle and high
school—and we had problems with it, and some of us were critical of the
syllabus. We were given a certain amount of leeway in this, but it became
problematic when we stated that we would write history in the way we thought
appropriate. This was not something that the representatives of the state were
happy about. We had serious arguments with some of the individual states who
wanted to add chapters on local big men to glorify them. This would have
destroyed the balance of each book. I took the stand that the states were
welcome to add what they wanted, since ours were said to be model textbooks,
but only on condition that if any changes were made, then my name would be
removed as the author of the book.
(Eds.) Kumkum Roy and Naina Dayal Questioning Paradigms Constructing Histories: A Festchrift for Romila Thapar Aleph Book Company, New Delhi, 2019. Hb. Pp. 540. Rs. 999
Dr Radha Kumar is a historian and a policy analyst who has written several well-regarded books on ethnic conflict and feminism. She was one of the interlocutors appointed for Jammu and Kashmir by the Manmohan Singh administration in 2010. Paradise at War is her latest book on Jammu and Kashmir published by Aleph.
According to the book blurb:
Paradise at War is Dr Radha Kumar’s political history of Kashmir, a book that attempts to give the reader a definitive yet accessible study of perhaps the most troubled part of India. Beginning with references to Kashmir as ‘a sacred geography’ in the Puranas, Kumar’s account moves forward in time through every major development in the region’s history. It grapples with the seemingly intractable issues that have turned the state into a battleground and tries to come up with solutions that are realistic and lasting.
Situating the conflict in the troubled geopolitics of Kashmir’s neighbourhood, Kumar unpicks the gnarled tangle of causes that have led to the present troubles in the region, from wars and conquest to Empire and the growth of nationalism; the troubled accession of the state to India by Maharaja Hari Singh during Partition; Pakistani attacks and the rise of the Cold War; the politics of the various parts of the former princely state including Jammu and Kashmir, and the areas administered by Pakistan; the wars that followed and the attempts that Indian, Pakistani and Kashmiri leaders, starting with Sheikh Abdullah and Jawaharlal Nehru, made to find peaceful solutions, including taking the Kashmir issue to the UN, which had unintended consequences for India; the demand for plebiscite; the Simla Agreement, turning the ceasefire line into the Line of Control; communal riots in the 1980s and the growth of insurgency; increase in security forces in the state in the 1990s leading to public resentment; and the guerrilla occupation of Hazratbal, the fifteenth-century mosque. Showing that a changed Post-Cold War milieu offered new opportunities for peace-making that were restricted by domestic stresses in Pakistan, Kumar analyses the Lahore Declaration and its undoing with the Kargil operation; the morphing of insurgency into an Islamist jihad against India; India’s attempts to parley with separatist groups; and the progress made towards a Kashmir solution via peace talks by various Indian and Pakistani governments between 2002 and 2007.
Kumar’s descriptions of the contemporary situation—the impact of 9/11 and the war on terrorism; the Afghan war and the Mumbai attacks which created pressure on Pakistan to take action against radical Islamists; the blowback in Pakistan resulting in the growing radicalization of Pakistani institutions such as the judiciary and its spill over in Kashmir; the Indian government’s failure to move Kashmir into a peacebuilding phase; the trouble with AFSPA; the anti-India feelings that were triggered by counter-insurgency responses in 2010, the contentious coalition of 2014 and the killing of suspected terrorist Burhan Wani in 2016—underline the tragedies which ensue when conditions, timing and strategy are mismatched.
Drawing on her experience as a government interlocutor, Kumar chastises the Indian government for never failing ‘to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory when it comes to the state’s political grievances’. Equally, she shows how Pakistan’s Kashmir policy has been ‘an unmitigated disaster’. While arguing that India can do a great deal to reduce violence and encourage reconciliation within the former princely state, she concludes that if Kashmir is ever to move towards lasting peace and stability, the major stakeholders as well as regional and international actors will need to work together on the few feasible options that remain.
Timely and authoritative, the book cuts through the rhetoric that cloaks Kashmir to give the reader a balanced, lucid and deeply empathetic view of the state, its politics and its people.
With the publisher’s permission here is an extract ( p. 339-341) from Dr Kumar’s concluding chapter entitled “Conclusion: Faint Hope for a Peace Process”.
****
Looking back over the
history of Jammu and Kashmir, the last seventy years have seen a tragic
collision between aspirations for democracy and the grim realities of war.
After centuries of imperial rule, the territorial state of Jammu and Kashmir
emerged in the nineteenth century and the political state only after India and
Pakistan became independent countries. From 1947, two opposing trajectories
were evident. On the one hand, India–Pakistan conflict devastated daily life
and severely hampered governance in the former princely state. On the other
hand, all parts of the state steadily improved economically, though their
economies remained heavily aid-reliant. Their residents acquired education and
healthcare where once, not so long ago, they did not. Roads and rail lines were
built, enabling connectivity and trade. Natural resources such as water were
developed, and even though these resources were shared with India and Pakistan,
residents still had more than they did sixty years ago.
Politically, however,
there was a steady decline, from the first flush of hope in a post-monarchical
order to growing disappointment and anger spurred by war and conflict every
fifteen to twenty years. Albeit in sharply divergent ways, each of the divided
parts of the former princely state found that its status and rights were
determined by conflict and its government’s powers varied according to security
and economic dependence on India or Pakistan. It seems counter-intuitive to say
that the people of the Kashmir valley suffered the most poisonous politics of
the regions of the former princely state, when they had a greater measure of
democracy and civil rights, on paper, than their counterparts across the Line
of Control. But the Kashmir valley also suffered the most stifling conditions,
because it was the arena of violent conflict.
Looking back over the
past decade or more, it can be seen that the Pakistan Army’s hostility towards
India has cumulatively increased rather than decreased after 9/11. Musharraf
cooperated with the US against the Taliban on the grounds that if he did not,
it would advantage India. The first few years following 9/11 saw an
intensification of cross-border violence in Jammu and Kashmir. During the peace
process that followed, with considerable international facilitation, violence
decreased sharply in Jammu and Kashmir but terrorist attacks against India
rose, both in other parts of India and in Afghanistan. Eventually, the peace
process was put on hold by a beleaguered Musharraf in 2007.
The civilian
government that took over in Pakistan did not build on the framework for
Kashmir of the Musharraf backchannel. But they took cautious steps to improve
trade, and developed customs and transit infrastructure at the Wagah border.
Though the 26/11 attacks were the most horrific terrorist act in years, Pakistan-sponsored
terrorism against India declined overall. When the Zardari administration was
succeeded by the Sharif administration in 2013, the initial months were
promising. Sharif and Modi did briefly try to revive a peace process, but
guerrillas succeeded in disrupting their efforts and Sharif soon fell foul of
the Pakistani military.
Clearly, each country
has yet to come to terms with the other’s red lines. Pakistan’s red line was,
and remains, that terrorism would not be curbed unless Kashmir was also
discussed. For India, terrorism had to end. The hard facts were that Pakistan
was unlikely to give up support for anti-India groups like the Lashkar and
Jaish until conflicts over Kashmir, Sir Creek and Siachen were resolved. The
best that could be expected was that the Pakistan Army, under pressure, might
restrain them. Equally, India would not settle with Pakistan until convinced
that its government was ending support for anti-India militancy, including by
non-state actors. First Vajpayee, then Musharraf, and then Singh, Zardari and
Sharif, learned these hard facts the hard way, through trial and error, but the
learning curve in each country appeared to be individual rather than
institutional or collective.
Most Indians believe
that the Pakistani position would change were the military to accept civilian
precedence, but the chances of that happening are nil. Many would further argue
that a sustained military-to-military dialogue would also soften the hard-line
attitude of the Pakistan Army. Thus far, however, such a dialogue has proved
elusive. The fact that the Pakistani NSA appointed in October 2015 was a
retired general gave hope of a direct line to the military. After Pathankot,
the jury was still out on whether this access helped. The two countries’ chiefs
of army staff do not meet and their DGMOs have met only occasionally to talk
CBMs. There have been intermittent and secret NSA talks since 2016, with no
discernible impact.
A large and growing
new challenge for both countries has been how to deal with the media. In the
past four years, the role of electronic media in both countries has been
understandably but unforgivably negative. With little substantive information
to go on, Indian and Pakistani talking heads resorted to such virulent slanging
matches in the run-up to the India– Pakistan NSA talks in August 2015 that they
had to be cancelled. Some anchors questioned whether Pakistan fell into a trap
by reacting so strongly to the Indian media, but this begged the question of
whether the Indian media themselves fell into a spoilers’ trap. The Indian
media muted criticism to some extent in 2018, with most channels supporting the
ceasefire and questioning the toppling of the Mehbooba administration.
Astonishingly, the
Indian government has never failed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory
when it comes to Jammu and Kashmir. From Nehru taking the conflict to the UN
and arresting Sheikh Abdullah, to Indira dismissing and replacing elected
governments, to Singh shying away from taking CBMs to political resolution, to
Modi withdrawing the ceasefire before it had time to take hold and the BJP
toppling the state’s coalition government[i]
—almost every Indian prime minister has shown the state pusillanimity at best
and authoritarianism at worst.
Pakistan’s leaders
have done no better. Some might argue they did worse. Expressions of dissent
were severely repressed and the powers of the elected leaders of
Pakistan-administered Kashmir were little more than municipal. Gilgit–Baltistan
suffered decades of sectarian conflict. But neither entity was subjected to the
gruelling and attritive violence that Jammu and Kashmir was. While the reason
was clear—India did not target Pakistan-administered Kashmir in the way that
Pakistan targeted Jammu and Kashmir—it did not mitigate the suffering in Jammu
and Kashmir.
As I write this
conclusion, the Jammu and Kashmir conflict is at its nadir. Levels of violence
continue to rise and abduction, torture and murder of Kashmiris in the security
and police forces is becoming a new normal. The people of the valley are more
alienated from mainland India than ever before and Jammu’s communal
polarization between Muslim- and Hindumajority districts is greater than ever
before.
Ladakh is the one
clear ray of hope despite the distance between its two districts, Leh and
Kargil. But its light cannot be shed on the valley and Jammu since it has
always been quite separate from the two, both physically and in its polity.
****
[i] Rajesh Ahuja and Mir Ehsan, ‘Ramzan ceasefire in Jammu and Kashmir to end, security ops will resume, says Rajnath Singh’, Hindustan Times, 17 June, 2018; ‘Mehbooba Mufti resigns after BJP pulls out of alliance with PDP in Jammu and Kashmir’, Times of India, 19 June, 2018.
Every Monday I post some of the books I have received in the previous week. This post will be in addition to my regular blog posts and newsletter. Today’s Book Post 25 is after a gap of two weeks as January is an exceedingly busy month with the Jaipur Literature Festival, Jaipur BookMark and related events.
In today’s Book Post 25 included are some of the titles I received in the past few weeks as well as bought at the literature festival and are worth mentioning.
Renowned Harrington Spear Paine Professor of Religion at Princeton University, Elaine Pagels Why Religion? is a moving memoir. It is not only an account on the devastating grief she experienced of losing her six-year-old son Mark and husband Heinz Pagels within a year of each other but also of her academic trajectory. A phenomenal academic Elaine Pagels is credited with groundbreaking work in Bible studies. She is one of the earliest scholars to have written on the discovery of the Gnostic gospels.
Why Religion is a memoir that is extremely moving particularly when she discusses the moments of intense pain and grief she experiences. And yet what is remarkable is how she pulls herself together as much as she is able to for the sake of her two younger children, even managing to complete the adoption process for her son David in the absence of Heinz, and making a career move to Princeton University.
She has been awarded some of the most prestigious grants — the Rockefeller, Guggenheim, and MacArthur Fellowships. And this for someone whose initial application to Harvard to do a PhD in the history of religion was rejected saying:
Ordinarily we would admit an applicant with your qualifications. However we are not able to offer a place in our doctoral program to a woman, since we have so many qualified applicants, and we are able to admit only seven to our doctoral program. In our experience, unfortunately, women students always have quit before completing the degree.
But the letter continued to say that if she was still “serious” about doing the course in the following year, the department would grant her admission. So she did.
Her interest in religion began after having visited a Billy Graham event when she was fifteen years old. She was a believer for about a year and a half but then quit it after losing one of her close friends, Paul, in a car accident. She bailed out of evangelical christianity after her friends came to offer their condolences but were unmoved about the incident after discovering Paul was a Jew and not a born again Christian and so he would be damned to hell. Elaine Pagels could not comprehend this as to her mind Jesus Christ was also a Jew.
There are many, many nuggets of wisdom she shares in her memoir. Never is she didactic in her tone but it gives much to think about. Given that she was the product of her times when women were being recognised as individuals in their own right and had much to contribute to society and of course academics, Pagels began questioning the very texts she was studying. Texts that she began to question as being a construct of their times imbued with patriarchy.
One of the earliest passages in the book is:
…the creation stories are old folk tales, they effectively communicate cultural values that taught us to “act like women”. Besides revealing how such traditions pressure us to act, these stories also taught us how to accept the role of women as “the second sex,” a phrase that Tertullian coined in the second century. The same Christian leaders whose scriptures censor feminine images of God campaigned to exclude women from positions of leadership, often hammering on the Bible’s divine sanction of men’s right to rule — views that most Christians have endorsed for thousands of years, and many still do.
This questioning spirit has kept her mentally agile. Consequently the body of work she has published has been pathbreaking not only for Bible studies but also how religious studies are meant to be viewed. She insists upon being a student of the history of cultures that uses faith as a tool to dissect and understand social structures through the ages. “Why Religion?” is also a critical question to be asked today when the world is increasingly polarised along communal lines, making this book even more relevant.
Here is a fascinating conversation with her recorded on 30 November 2018. Pagels is in conversation with Dr. Eric Motley, executive vice president at the Aspen Institute and author of the memoir Madison Park.
Why Religion? is a book that will move you irrespective of whether you are a Christian or not. This is meant to be read by all faiths and non-believers. It is meant for all readers — a fascinating testimony on a life well lived. A life that many folks, ordinary folks live — of living and believing in one’s faith and how these threads co-exist in one’s life, it is impossible to compartmentalise these aspects.