Something I wrote last December...
There is a prophecy of the Shambhala warriors. The world of Shambhala will emerge when human kind is ready to annihilate itself. No deluge or famine will kill us on dooms day. It will not rain for 30 days and 30 nights. Yama may not come down with his bull to drag us back. No judgment day will be pronounced for all. God may not have to do work too hard to destroy his creation. Wearing a jeans, taking a backpack and with an AK 47 in our hand, His children will enter a place and shoot blindly the ‘other’. The ‘other’ will then kill the other ‘other.
The face of Kasab has come back to my mind very often, since I first saw it in a newspaper in a friends house four days back. Unlike all Indian patriots who kept a track of 26/11 and the day after, I was one of those unpassionate people who neither opened the newspaper nor ventured close to a TV. I was woken up in the morning by a call enquiring if I was fine. My understanding of those two days is largely based on this report which I got at 7 in the morning with half closed eyes. I have not made any efforts to know any further through other sources, nor held any passionate discussions on the vileness of Pakistan and the heroism of Karkare. I was complacent of my apathy till the day when, I saw the photograph of Kasab in a friends house. I looked at the picture in the newspaper and asked, “ Is he the terrorist who was caught?”
Kasab looks close to my age. Like any other youth he does not seem to belong to any place or religion. To me he looks as identity less as I am. Looking at me, you cannot trace me back to my soil. Some say I am a Mallu because I am tall and dark, others say I look like a Bong. My foreign friends in Shantiniketan swore that I had ‘non-Indian’ vibes- that I am more of a foreigner in my own country. I am hardly ever called a Maharashtrian. I am just a metro-animal. I can be placed anywhere and asked to belong. I can be as easily removed from that place, and it would make no difference to me nor to the place. I am a disposable identity. My unwashed jeans and loose hair can be pinned down to any place. Like the ‘M’ of Mac Donald you can paste me anywhere, and I would belong there. An Identity less identity. To me Kasab looks like me- belonging nowhere and therefore being everywhere. That’s what I call is being global.
My friend widened his eyes and said “ Obviously that’s Kasab.”
I stared at him and then read the news item. His father had claimed him. Kasab in turn had claimed his country in a letter to the High Commissioner of Pakistan. Kasab had asked for new clothes to his poor father who could not afford them. Kasab left the house in a huff. He became a Jehadi- ready to die.
I am the youngest child of my family and highly pampered. But for some strange reason I did not have a doll, until I was quiet old. My two elder sisters were obsessed with theirs. We were asked to sleep in the afternoon so that my parents could close their weary eyes a little. But alas, as soon as there door would close, I would pester my sisters to play with me. My purpose was simple. If they played so would their dolls. My sisters hated my relentless banter, but adamant as they were, they wouldn’t open there eyes. Over time, I arrived at a trick. I was 6 years old then. With the red ribbon they tied their plaits with I would strangle myself. My sisters were first amused at this sight. But would soon get scared that I would kill myself, and agree to play. Kasab is in jail today because his siblings, didn’t bow down to his blackmails.
I finished the news item and then looked at the flickering television. NDTV was paying a tribute to Karakare and others who died fighting the terror for us. The anchorer reminded ‘us’ of our irritating habit of forgetting those who fight and die for us. Unlike amnesia in which you get a temporary loss, we suffer from a disease in which you get a temporary remembrance. That is the reason, the anchorer seemed to say that we forgot Kargil. Rahul bose assured him that he wont forget 26/11 so did Sunidhi Chauhan. Sunidhi was asked to pay a tribute through her songs and Rahul Bose through his intellect in the discussuion. It was surprising how both were segregated. Sunidhi was hardly asked for an opinion during the discussion and Rahul was never asked to exercise his vocal cords. After the patriotic number, Sunidhi sang a song from Parineeta to lighten the mood. One lightens once mood in order to forget reality - atleast temporarily . Temporary loss of memory is called amnesia which the anchorer said we all went through for the Kargil heroes.
“So what do they intend to do with Kasab?”, I asked.
“What do you think they should do? If Muslim law prevails in killing others then it should prevail for the person caught killing too. For killers Muslim law says that they should be halaled. So Kasab also should be halaled. This will teach others a lesson. What do you think should be done to him?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
And this surprised me. How can I not know what should be done to Kasab? How am I without an opinion?
The picture of Kasab striding through CST flashed back to me. Do I hate him? Is he too young?
“What the hell are you talking about? So are you saying that its ok to kill and then say , oh I am a little baby. Please don’t punish me. He is old enough to understand what he was doing. He has killed. He should be killed too.”
Surely Kasab is not a baby. He is not even a teenager to be tried in a juvenile court. Then why the hell don’t I know what one should do with him.
Was this Kasab ever a child?
He was the child who ran away from the house because his father could not afford to buy him new clothes for Eid. And then what happens? So he is taken up by people of LeT and TRAINED to be a Jehadi. He is brain washed enough to believe that he is a messenger of god- a musalman on special duty. In return for the sacrifice he makes for Allah, his family will be given 1 and a half lakhs. Now that’s a lot of money for a hawker who sells pakoras. Kasab’s father would never sell his children, but Kasab is ready to sell himself.
And with enough training and equipment, Kasab is sent to Mumbai with the sole aim of killing. Just kill. No matter who it is- kill. Doesn’t matter that you have no time to judge the religion of the victim- Kill. Kill, Kill and Kill.
Kasab- the soldier of god , performs his duty. But unlike his comrades, instead of dying in battle he is caught alive by the Indian police.
Its seven years since Kasab left home. He left home at the age of 14. He looked like one of those street kids near the tracks- lost and hungry. So when a LeT man may have promised him food and clothing, he might have looked god sent- a human with wings and a wand. Kasab went through rigorous training for a year under an ex-army man. Reports of interrogation say that this ‘Chacha’ made him run 10-15 kms a day. He was trained in swimming, boating, surfing, GPS systems… sounds like a high profile Defense academy. Infact it sounds similar to the NDA training that my father talks off.
My sister talks of a classmate of Uganda quiet often to me. This Ugandan man was once a little boy. The rebel soldiers of the state opened fire on his village. All civilians were asked to gather outside their houses. The families with little children stood out in an assembly. The rebels thrust a gun in the hands of the young children and asked them to shoot their parents. These children were later enrolled in the Rebel army. My sisters Ugandan friend killed his own parents when he was a child. He speaks of committing unthinkable atrocities as a soldier. How does one judge him during the trial?
Who gets judged- the one who is caught or the one who made you run?
Shekhar Kapoor decided to make a movie on Phoolan devi- the bandit queen who was once treated worse than a slave. A queen who revolted against all atrocities and took revenge. She killed the men of the entire village that had stood watching her shame. The queen later ran for elections too. And what happened to the widows of the village that lost an entire generation and the men to make a new one with? Did the widows ever forgive the Queen? The mainstream media and public forgave Phoolan.
For a year Kasab, listened to tales of god’s soldiers, learning the will of allah and his purpose of life from convincing orators. Orators who by all means look charismatic enough to be called spiritual. After all few spiritual leaders can rival the light in Osama’s eyes. What emerged was an unjust world where Kasab was the victim. The victim was asked to avenge his suffering. And he did.
When Kasab will stand in the court, his face wont hang in shame. He will have no regret and guilt. His face and eyes will say nothing to plead for sympathy. He will most probably look proud of his actions. He wont even look at you and me. He will look at Him and say, “I followed your command.”
“26 Nov should be treated as India's 9/11”.
9/11 was the day on which Al Qaeda led terrorists hijacked two planes and intentionally crashed them into the twin WTC towers. America launched a war on terrorism, invading Afghanistan to wipe away the Talibans and a man called Osama. The war against terror began on October 7th 2001. 20,000 American additional troops will arrive in Afghanistan in 2009. Its been eight years since the war on terror. Though all of us are highly prone to amnesia, but can we just try recalling all the terror attacks since the war on terror. Osama was never caught. But Saddam was. Saddam was caught, tried and hanged for holding nuclear weapons that he never possessed.
If killing was an answer to terror, then how many more need to be killed before peace will arrive in all its glory.
Killing kills a man not his mind.
Killing kills a body not a thought.
Killing kills a man not his legacy.
Killing a kasab wont kill terror.
Terror is not a human being to be killed.
Terror lies in the mind.
Terror is perpetuated by the mind.
To kill terror you have to kill a mind not a body. Killing a body is only an excuse for armament not for peace.
When my father used to come back from his duty on leave, it was festival time at home. But the festivities also bought work. All books and cupboards had to be in order, and obviously studies had to be done. Inspite of all precautions, I and my sisters would have to bear the wrath of my father atleast once during the holidays for indiscipline. But in the evening, Papa would always get us ice-cream to make up.
We all have a child in us even as an adult. This child needs an icecream at the end of the day.
The prophecy of the Shambhala says that there comes a time when all life on Earth is in danger. Great bar¬barian powers rise to annihilate one another, they have much in common: weapons of unfathomable destructive power, and technologies that lay waste our world.
The Shambhala warriors will come to save mankind from nuclear bombs and bio-warfare. To destroy these weapons, they will have to go into the very heart of the barbarian power- into the pits and pockets and citadels where the weapons are kept.
The Shambhala warriors will go into the corridors of power where it was decided that Kasab will kill and not live. The prophecy says that these warriors without weapons will destroy these weapons of destruction without weapons. Because weapons like terror resides in the minds. Weapons are "mind-made." They are made by the human mind, and so they will have to be unmade by the human mind too. Body cannot undo what the mind did.
Kasab should be taken into the land of Shambhalas. He should meet the family of each person who was killed. He should live with them and see how similar are our differences. His mind was once made to kill by the LeT force. Lets build a force that can make his mind again not to kill but to live.
Don’t hang him. He is still a child. If he was 60 years old, I would have still said he is a child. Children are reprimanded not hanged.
Make his mind again and send him back. Send him back to the training camp where the ‘Chacha’ might still be there. Most probably they will kill him. But if he lives then he can prevent another Kasab from making another 26/11.
No ‘war on terror’ can stop terror.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
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