9 Is Not 11: (And November Isn’t September)
Sunday, December 14th, 2008
Arundhati Roy writes: We’ve forfeited the rights to our own tragedies. As the carnage in
Mumbai raged on, day after horrible day, our 24-hour news channels
informed us that we were watching “India’s 9/11.” And like actors in a
Bollywood rip-off of an old Hollywood film, we’re expected to play our
parts and say our lines, even though we know it’s all been said and
done before.
As tension in the region builds, U.S. Senator John McCain has warned
Pakistan that, if it didn’t act fast to arrest the “bad guys,” he had
personal information that India would launch air strikes on “terrorist
camps” in Pakistan and that Washington could do nothing because Mumbai
was India’s 9/11.
But November isn’t September, 2008 isn’t 2001, Pakistan isn’t
Afghanistan, and India isn’t America. So perhaps we should reclaim our
tragedy and pick through the debris with our own brains and our own
broken hearts so that we can arrive at our own conclusions.
It’s odd how, in the last week of November, thousands of people in
Kashmir supervised by thousands of Indian troops lined up to cast their
vote, while the richest quarters of India’s richest city ended up
looking like war-torn Kupwara — one of Kashmir’s most ravaged
districts.
The Mumbai attacks are only the most recent of a spate of terrorist
attacks on Indian towns and cities this year. Ahmedabad, Bangalore,
Delhi, Guwahati, Jaipur, and Malegaon have all seen serial bomb blasts
in which hundreds of ordinary people have been killed and wounded. If
the police are right about the people they have arrested as suspects,
both Hindu and Muslim, all are Indian nationals, which obviously
indicates that something’s going very badly wrong in this country.
If you were watching television you might not have heard that ordinary
people, too, died in Mumbai. They were mowed down in a busy railway
station and a public hospital. The terrorists did not distinguish
between poor and rich. They killed both with equal cold-bloodedness.
The Indian media, however, was transfixed by the rising tide of horror
that breached the glittering barricades of “India shining” and spread
its stench in the marbled lobbies and crystal ballrooms of two
incredibly luxurious hotels and a small Jewish center.
We’re told that one of these hotels is an icon of the city of Mumbai.
That’s absolutely true. It’s an icon of the easy, obscene injustice
that ordinary Indians endure every day. On a day when the newspapers
were full of moving obituaries by beautiful people about the hotel
rooms they had stayed in, the gourmet restaurants they loved
(ironically one was called Kandahar), and the staff who served them, a
small box on the top left-hand corner in the inner pages of a national
newspaper (sponsored by a pizza company, I think) said, “Hungry, kya?”(”Hungry eh?”). It, then, with the best of intentions I’m sure,
informed its readers that, on the international hunger index, India
ranked below Sudan and Somalia.
But of course this isn’t that war. That one’s still being
fought in the Dalit bastis (settlements) of our villages; on the banks
of the Narmada and the Koel Karo rivers; in the rubber estate in
Chengara; in the villages of Nandigram, Singur, Chattisgarh, Jharkhand,
Orissa, Lalgarh in West Bengal; and the slums and shantytowns of our
gigantic cities.
That war isn’t on TV. Yet.
So maybe, like everyone else, we should deal with the one that is. (12/14/08)
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