'INDIA is not our MASTER' | |||
| A rising tide of anti-India sentiment is overtaking Nepal. New Delhi is being blamed for everything, including the deadlock over the election of a new Prime Minister. V. Kumara Swamy explains why India is hated in the Himalayan country http://www.telegraphindia.com/1100912/jsp/7days/story_12926446.jsp | |||
It was yet another gloomy day — with low hanging clouds on the forested hills in Kathmandu underlining the mood of the people. For Krishna Lama, a businessman who was among the many assembled in front of the Constituent Assembly building to know if Nepal was finally going to get a new Prime Minister, the news that a vote had led to another deadlock only added to despair. On Tuesday, in the seventh round of voting, the Unified Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) candidate, Pushpa Kamal Dahal — better known as Prachanda — won the highest number of votes, but couldn't gather majority votes to become the Prime Minister of a coalition government. Nepali Congress's Ram Chander Paudel came a distant second. But Lama is not really surprised. "The ultimate decision on who becomes our Prime Minister will be taken in India, not here. Prachanda lost because India doesn't like him," he says, while a few around him nod. "We are dependent on India for everything. Do you think India will allow our politicians to decide anything on their own?" Lama speaks for most people in Nepal when he blames India for the impasse in his country. From mainstream political parties and the media to the elite in Kathmandu, everybody is convinced that the big brother spells trouble.
Nepal has had a love-hate relationship with India in the best of times. Four years ago, when India's quiet intervention helped broker peace with the Maoists — which led to Nepal's transition from a constitutional monarchy to a multi-party democracy — India's role was viewed favourably. But as differences between political parties over a new constitution led to the rise and fall of several governments in the last two years, India got the flak. Prachanda's party held India responsible for the instability. "The Indian embassy is interfering in our affairs and trying to micro-manage them. I don't want to blame everybody in India, but it seems the South Block wants a hegemonic role in our country and we oppose that," says Narain Kaji Shreshta, a hard-line leader in Prachanda's UCPN-M. While the Maoists have 237 lawmakers in the 601-member parliament, the Nepali Congress has 114 and the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist-Leninist) 109. The Madhesi parties — representing people in the plains, who are culturally close to Bihar and Uttar Pradesh — have around 80 lawmakers and have been accused of playing into the hands of India. Nepal's politicians have not taken kindly to the recent visits of ex-Indian diplomats Shyam Saran and K.V. Rajan, both former ambassadors to Nepal. They accuse Indians of trying to pressure Madhesi parties to oppose the Maoists. A breakaway faction of the Madhesi parties, led by Upendra Yadav, has joined the anti-India chorus. "We want India to play a positive role in Nepal, but that doesn't mean we have to take instructions from New Delhi," says Yadav, the leader of the Madhesi Janadhikar Forum. Worse, the Indian embassy is not just pitted against the largest political party but is also battling Nepal's biggest media house, Kantipur. It all started with the Nepalese government scrapping a Machine Readable Passports deal — for printing passports — with India after a letter by India's ambassador Rakesh Sood to the Nepalese foreign secretary was published in Kantipur's publications. In the letter, the ambassador requested Nepal to award the printing contract to India. The crisis snowballed after protests in Meghalaya against the Nepalese community were given prominent display in Kantipur and a few other publications, leading to anti-India demonstrations in Nepal. There was more. In August, Nepal's media alleged that a counsellor in the Indian embassy had threatened Nepalese parliamentarian Ram Kumar Sharma. The Indian embassy denies the allegation, but the Maoists are not convinced. "No embassy in the world acts in this manner. India is not our master," says C.P. Gajurel, a prominent UCPN-M leader. Kantipur, meanwhile, alleged that its newsprint was held back at the Calcutta port on the instructions of the Indian embassy. It also said the embassy had asked Indian companies not to advertise in Kantipur publications. "These were arm-twisting tactics on behalf of the Indian embassy. We tried to reason with Rakesh Sood, but nothing helped," says Sudheer Sharma, editor of the group. The Indian embassy is maintaining a stiff upper lip. "There is a strong people-to-people relationship and the common person in Nepal is aware of India's positive role in assisting Nepal's economic development as also the politics behind attempts to whip up anti-India rhetoric," says embassy spokesperson Apoorva Srivastava. India has its share of grouses too. Kantipur carried articles saying that juice sold by Indian company Dabur was unhealthy. Dabur Nepal approached the Indian embassy alleging that the media group had said it would give Dabur negative publicity if it did not get ads. Sood issued a press release on August 27, saying that "certain print and television media" had been reporting "against products manufactured by Indian joint ventures in Nepal". The statement alleged that they had attempted to extort advertisements. A storm of protests ensued. Journalists' unions and media groups accused the embassy of "breaching diplomatic propriety". Sood was vilified. "For most people in Nepal, the notion of India was very abstract all these years. But with Rakesh Sood, it has a face now," says Ajaya Bhadra Khanal, editor, The Himalayan Times, Kathmandu's largest English daily. "India is now being equated with his personality and being seen as brash, in-your-face and arrogant." Indian diplomacy, says Nepal expert S.D. Muni, is becoming "grotesque". The present situation reminds him of the Fifties. "India's ambassador then wanted to dictate everything, ignoring that Nepal was a sovereign nation. It seems that neither Indian policy nor diplomacy can figure out how to deal with the rise of the Maoists," says Muni. A prominent member of the Nepal-India Chamber of Commerce and Industry stresses that Sood is right in taking up the cause of Indian companies. "Indian companies provide employment to lakhs of Nepalese. If somebody is trying to create mischief, the ambassador has the right to step in," he says. The Indian embassy says 45 per cent of foreign investments in Nepal are by Indian companies, and nearly 2/3rd of Nepali foreign trade is with India. India's assistance outlay for Nepal, including payment of pensions, is over Rs 1,300 crore annually. Some feel that the Maoists' attempts at cosying up to China are also responsible for India's expanded role. India is concerned over the increased Chinese presence in Nepal. "The Chinese have their concerns on the Tibetan issue. But India should understand that the Nepalese people are aware of Indian sensitivities about security," says Gopal Man Shreshta, a Nepali Congress leader. Muni, however, says there is nothing new in attempts to play up China against India. "Everyone in or out of power in Nepal has tried to play the China card to get India's attention and support. But it is mostly the failure of Indian policy and diplomacy that has created space for China to be active and effective," says Muni. India may have already upped the ante against the Chinese with a recently leaked taped conversation allegedly between a Chinese operative and a Maoist leader on "buying" support for the Maoists during the election for the Prime Minister's post. Kathmandu whispers that the conversation was taped by India and leaked to the media. The good news is that despite the pervasive anti-India feeling, there has been no violent backlash. In December 2000, violent protests erupted over Indian actor Hrithik Roshan's alleged anti-Nepal comments. Today, billboards dotting prominent Kathmandu roads have Indian actors endorsing products. Indian companies too say their business hasn't been affected. While some observers say there is a "protest fatigue" among the Nepalese people, the Maoists and Kantipur take the credit for restraining the people. "We are not provoking the masses to an extent that they will turn violent, but they will if Ambassador Sood doesn't mend his ways," says Gajurel. Sharma of Kantipur says his group is holding back damaging stories against India fearing that they would lead to violence. Tensions can ease if, as some suggest, India operates behind doors keeping its interests in mind. Others say it should let the Nepalese parties reach a consensus on the PM. "Leave them alone. Do not send special envoys as the ambassador can take care of issues," says S. Chandrasekharan, director of the South Asia Analysis Group, New Delhi. And that, depending on your viewpoint, may mark a new beginning — or more turmoil. |
A SKY OF INKY TINT - The Indian memoirs of Lady Canning, the first vicereine | |
| Malavika Karlekar | |
When a painterly eye combines with the quill or pen, the outcome is quite striking, particularly in the narration of memoirs. Interestingly, though Indians started writing about their lives by the second half of the 19th century, hardly any appeared to be familiar with the paintbrush or pencil; at best, as a mandatory acceptance of the new visual medium of photography, a studio portrait of the author might appear as the frontispiece. On the other hand, to explore the Indian countryside and its growing urban areas with a paintbrush or early colour-pencils was not unusual for British civil servants, doctors and engineers; several combined this interest with photography, the latter often a requirement of their jobs. A handful of women — often skilled, amateur watercolourists — has left behind a rich legacy of memories brought alive by visual images. While Charlotte Canning inherited a tradition of combining memory with image from Emily Eden and Fanny Parks, she also embellished her writings with photographs. An accomplished photographer (in some of the handful that survives from the thousands she took), she emphasized composition, backdrop and overall effect. In A Glimpse of the Burning Plain: Leaves from the Indian Journals of Charlotte Canning, the writer of popular history, Charles Allen, has put together engaging gleanings from the first vicereine of India's paintings, journals and letters about her life in this country. In 1842, Charlotte Canning had been appointed Lady of the Bedchamber by Queen Victoria, an honour that meant that she had to wait upon the woman who was to become Empress of India. When, by the end of 1855, the Cannings were on their way by sea to India, where Charles was to become governor-general, Charlotte initiated a tradition of regular letter-writing to the queen that was to last for over five years. If Charles did not find time to send dispatches to his sovereign — and apparently, this was quite often — Charlotte filled in with very detailed epistles. An appreciative Victoria wrote back, "I cannot tell you how thankful I am for your writing to me so regularly... your letters... are universally considered as the best that are received from India." The Victorian age was known for letter-writing and the keeping of journals and diaries — the queen had kept a diary from the age of 13, and the near-daily recording of her long life filled over a hundred volumes. Even though it was not until well into the 20th century that diarists ventured into the personal in their writings, it is not as though their predecessors wrote in a totally sanitized, angst-free manner. Charlotte Canning was the epitome of the upper-class British woman — but even she did not keep her feelings at bay. Of course, there is no mention of her husband's inamorata, left safely behind in England, but there are enough interesting comments and asides for the reader to develop a certain admiration for this talented and dutiful woman's prescience. While in Madras, Charlotte has her first taste of Anglo-Indianisms — they were fed "tiffin instead of luncheon" — and an encounter with missionaries left her with a distinct sense of distaste as she found their "phraseology and manners... most disagreeable". Charlotte knew that their wards, too, though adept at parroting what they had been taught, "did not pretend to or believe what they said", in the words of her journal. Though she was soon to live in one of the grandest houses the British built in India — Government House in Calcutta — and do it up as a stately home, she could not but find the way of life of her compatriots absurd: "treated with a pomp and circumstance unknown to anybody in England". Waited on hand and foot, their horses and dogs too had their own "valet de chambres". To the queen she wrote on the safe subject of the beauties of Indian women and as "photography is making good progress in India... I hope to send some specimens to your Majesty." If Calcutta did not endear itself to Charlotte ("there are deficiencies in Calcutta which no one ever told me of, but which are enough to deter any one from ever coming voluntarily to live here"), Barrackpore (Barrackpur) more than made up for its shortcomings. Sixteen miles up-river, the much more modest abode was nevertheless one where Charlotte felt clearly at home even though she found the plan of "an Indian room odd" with its many doors and windows. The garden was too English for the lady's liking and for her, the "jungly ground outside" the compound was much more appealing. Charlotte's somewhat quirky sense of humour led her to inflict on visitors a bumpy elephant ride from the governor-general's ample stables — it had "a wonderfully reassuring effect upon people who arrive very much alarmed at us". While she did not explain further, perhaps she meant that a visit to the gubernatorial home was daunting to many. Soon the ubiquitous chintzes and armchairs were on display, walks by the river laid out and, in the evenings, regimental bands were in attendance. After a period of hibernation, Charlotte's sketch-pad and photographic equipment made their appearance; she rode down pathways and found "the wonderful beauty of detail — all the tangle, & great unbroken leaves & stems, all lovely to draw". It could only be her artist's eye which saw trees that were "like green tinsel, or green flies, or enamel". All this, of course, was the proverbial lull before the storm as the Cannings could not have come to India at a more tumultuous time. During 1857-8, Charlotte played the role of diligent reporter, keeping the empress informed of the chilling events. Commenting on the greased cartridge issue, she explained in a letter that "sepoys are the most tractable good people... but any fear that religion or caste shall be tampered with, can always excite them to every possible folly". In response, a clearly apprehensive queen wrote of the need for the "greatest care... to be taken" not to interfere with the religion of a "fanatical people — very strictly attached to their religion". Details of the siege of the Lucknow Residency, of women held and killed at the Bibighar in Cawnpore (Kanpur), and the repatriation of survivors to Calcutta were conveyed in restrained detail to the queen. In her journal, Charlotte wrote in irritation with the panic that had beset Calcutta; as "revolvers are bought by everyone" and there was talk of forming regiments comprising able-bodied citizens, such behaviour was clearly "absurd" for "there is not the least cause of fear here". As excesses against the sepoys spread, Lord Canning wrote in one of his rare letters to the queen of the "rabid and indiscriminate vindictiveness abroad even among many who ought to set a better example". Though he was soon disdainfully referred to as 'Clemency Canning' by sections of a jingoistic press back home, the queen's long letter of support reassured him. Punishment was to be severe, she averred, but the faithful were to be rewarded and women, children and old men spared — or else, as she pragmatically wrote, "how could we expect any respect or esteem for us in the future?" The Cannings survived the storm, and when the viceroy decided to move up-country so as to have a more hands-on view of the post-1857 situation, Charlotte's journal and letters recorded the varied terrain and the people they met — and even a hair-raising 30-day trip in a jhampan ("John pons") from Chini "on the borders of Thibet" to Mussouri (Mussoorie). In early 1861, Charlotte reluctantly accepted that the Cannings were to stay on in India a while more; in November, she returned from Darjeeling with what was diagnosed as Purnea fever. Her husband, who had, on more than one occasion, publicly humiliated Charlotte, was now all devotion, barely leaving her side. And when she died in his arms on the 19th, he lost no time in ear-marking a quiet, riverside spot in the Barrackpore property for her grave. A neglected replica of her tomb stands in Calcutta's St John's Church, the long shot here (from Christopher Taylor and Soumitra Das's White & Black) — by the photographer, Christopher Taylor — highlighting its forlornness. Yet, Lady Canning lives on in the ledikeni — a favourite Bengali sweet introduced by Bhim Nag for the vicereine's birthday. The enterprising confectioner had created a space in the Bengali palate for the lady, who, by the end of her life, had developed a strange attachment to the city. On return from a tour, she wrote in her journal that though the residents looked "parboiled", she was "quite enchanted" to be back to one of Calcutta's hottest Julys with a "sky of inky tint and an atmosphere like a wash-house". |
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Palash Biswas
Pl Read:
http://nandigramunited-banga.blogspot.com/
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