Who made money from apartheid
Who keep the Irish a colony
Who overthrow Chile and Nicaragua later
Who killed David Sibeko, Chris Hani,
the same ones who killed Biko, Cabral,
Neruda, Allende, Che Guevara, Sandino,
Who killed Kabila, the ones who wasted Lumumba, Mondlane , Betty Shabazz, Princess Margaret, Ralph Featherstone, Little Bobby
Who locked up Mandela, Dhoruba, Geronimo,
Assata, Mumia,Garvey, Dashiell Hammett, Alphaeus Hutton
Who killed Huey Newton, Fred Hampton,
MedgarEvers, Mikey Smith, Walter Rodney,
Was it the ones who tried to poison Fidel
Who tried to keep the Vietnamese Oppressed
Who put a price on Lenin’s head?”
Who says Amiri Baraka is no more?
He is alive as long as there exists humanity. He shall remain relevant as long as critical questions continue to be posed. When Baraka wrote the poem “Somebody Blew Up America”, he was accused of anti-semitism, he was stripped of the poet laureate rank of New Jersey and many prominent political leaders and activists ridiculed him for having taken such a radical stand at a time when the country was mourning 9/11, as jingoism was the only poetic license a poet could afford to retain in America then. And yet, Amiri Baraka did not give in to the patriotic flavor of the day. He instead spoke the truth. Awards and recognitions were not going to influence him. He relinquished the honorary positions. He adopted what a true radical does: he remained unafraid of truth.
This truth however became the contentious issue for a hypocritical world order that soon termed him as controversial. What was controversial about furthering the cause of peace as an active oppositional stand against militarism and racism? Upon his demise, New York Times called him the “polarizing poet”. Polarizing? What was polarizing about the poet who dreamt of unifying the world while challenging the artificial geographical borders conveniently set by colonial masters?
Amiri Baraka was neither controversial nor polarizing. He was a poet, a historian, a progressive, romantic, revolutionary communist. And he was always unafraid of truth. The truth to him was revolution. A revolution to him was beyond a certain group of people, certain race of people, or people of a certain nationality. Like Paul Robeson before him, he strove for the revolution through his art. He shunned social divisions imposed by the ruling class. And if to acquire this truth, he had to struggle to reach there, he remained unafraid of that. He was not ashamed of transforming himself as a political being if by doing so he could further the progressive causes of the world. He wrote:
“I see art as a weapon of revolution. I define revolution in Marxist terms. Once I defined revolution in Nationalist terms. But I came to my Marxist view as a result of having struggled as a Nationalist and found certain dead ends theoretically and ideologically, as far as Nationalism was concerned and had to reach out for the communist ideology.”
When I met Amiri Baraka for the first time in Summer of 2011 at his house, he was 77. I had expected to see an old man, a retired poet, a tired revolutionary, or maybe a combination of all three. What I found in him instead was a young man deeply curious to know about international affairs, a passionate researcher sharing his new findings, and an enthusiastic radical radiating hope for the future. I had promised to be back to his place for another meeting, perhaps to conduct a more formal interview. But then I also knew that formal interviews are not conducted with lovers of revolution. Or, maybe I was quick to abandon any professional project in the midst of the hearty welcome, fine homemade foods and introductions with his entire family; the warmth and love that they bestowed upon my father (journalist Subhas Chandra Pattanayak) and I, when we visited him along with my dearest friend Dr. Todd S Burroughs, and beloved Professor and freedom fighter Dr. Les Edmond.
Todd S Burroughs, Amiri Baraka, Subhas Chandra Pattanayak, Les Edmond
I saw Mr. Baraka two more times – once in Brooklyn during an evening of revolutionary recitals, and the last time was at a Left Forum event. On both the occasions, he kindly asked about my father and reminded me that we needed to have that interview we have been planning for. Well, the interview could never finally take place. But I have no regrets at all. The fact that I did get to see him in person a few times was itself such a precious experience. The fact that he and his remarkable wife, revolutionary poetess Amina Baraka posed for my lens will always remain the high point of my artistic career.
Amina Baraka & Amiri Baraka
Personal is political and that is how I was drawn towards him early on. And that is the philosophy which was embodied in Baraka’s works throughout. His poems inspired me and empowered me. Baraka to me was Langston Hughes of our times. A poet of his people, a poet for all people. Like Hughes, his songs carried messages not of hope, but of revolution. Not of charities and feel good rhetorics, of sweet talks or inner peace bullshits. But of raw emotions, critical posers and call for actions.
Hughes had written: “Goodbye
Christ Jesus Lord God Jehova,
Beat it on away from here now.
Make way for a new guy with no religion at all-
A real guy named
Marx Communist Lenin Peasant Stalin Worker ME-
I said, ME!”
Baraka, too wrote:
“We’ll worship Jesus
When Jesus do
When jesus blow up
the white house…
we’ll worship jesus when
he get bad enough to at least scare
somebody – cops not afraid
pushers not afraid
of jesus, capitalists racists
imperialists not afraid
of jesus shit they makin money off jesus
we’ll worship jesus when Mao
do, when tour does
when the cross replaces Nkrumah’s star
Jesus need to hurt some a our
enemies, then we’ll check him out…
we ain’t gon worship jesus
not till he do something
not till he help us
not till the world get changed
and he ain’t, jesus ain’t, he can’t change the world
we can change the world
we can struggle against the forces of backwardness,
we can struggle against our selves, our slowness, our connection
with the oppressor, the very cultural aggression which binds us to our enemies
as their slaves.
we can change the world
we aint gonna worship jesus cause jesus don’t exist
except in slum stained tears or trillion dollar opulence stretching back in history, the history
of the oppression of the human mind
we worship the strength in us
we worship our selves….
throw jesus out your mind
build the new world out of reality, and new vision
we come to find out what there is of the world
to understand what there is here in the world!
to visualize change, and force it.
we worship revolution.”
Todd S Burroughs, Amiri Baraka & Saswat Pattanayak
This is the Baraka I have known. The “real guy” Hughes wanted us to remember, emulate and while worshipping the revolution, to worship the revolutionary. It is not the gods who are immortal. It is Baraka and the revolutionaries like him who shall always live in our midst.
Immortality is radicalism. Going to the roots and to find that all of us never really perished. We are all connected with each other, in our life form and without, in our present and our collective history. This is again what Baraka used to characterize as “Digging”, the name of the outstanding work of his that traces the evolution of Afro-American art. About that book, he had written, “This book is a microscope, a telescope, and being Black, a periscope. All to dig what is deeply serious…The sun is what keeps this planet alive, including the Music, like we say, the Soul of which is Black.”
Baraka’s black-is-beautiful was a legendary call for international unity for the people of the third world. It was a call for communism in a country that was the most anti-communist in the planet. Baraka never faltered, never feared and always remained the fighter, against conventional wisdom. In “Reggae or Not!”, he outlined who he was as a black man in America:
Socialism Socialism Socialism
DEATH TO ALLIGATOR EATING CAPITALISM
DEATH TO BIG TEETH BLOOD DRIPPING IMPERIALISM
I be black angry communist
I be part of rising black nation
I be together with all fighters who fight imperialism
I be together in a party with warmakers for the people
I be black and african and still contemporary marxist warrior
I be connected to people by blood and history and pain and struggle
We be together a party as one fist and voice
We be I be We, We, We, the whole fist and invincible flame
We be a party soon, we know our comrade for struggle…
Only Socialism will save
the Black Nation
Only Socialism will save
Only Socialism will save
Goodbye, angry black communist. See you again in the morning, the soul of the sun.
Contrary to the revised emotions from electoral pundits and wild psephologists, Delhi elections have not ushered in any new kind of empowering politics for India. Poll results have merely sided with populism, the central tenet in the politics of hopelessness that pervades the country today. Aam Aadmi Party is the New Right – a nationalist party aimed at dislodging Congress and weakening the Left – using a milder, a more acceptable version of BJP politics, Saswat Pattanayak opines.
The exaggerated climate of pessimism that may follow once Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) resorts to compromise politics with Congress must remain a secondary concern; at the root of crisis lies the ready admittance that the Aam Aadmi even had a stake in those polls results, to begin with. While crediting the commoner with this half-baked victory, power-grabbing exercises are well underway in the country’s capital; the difference this time is merely in the subtlety of it. What remains impressive is the sheer brilliance with which political imagery has been handled by Kejriwal, far surpassing most others in his league.
Arvind Kejriwal’s emergence as a major politician has little to do with his party’s claim as a credible alternative to any alleged duopoly in India. His battles against the “Congress-BJP” front are myth-making endeavors, regardless of his decision to accept support from the Congress Party. Just as mythical remains his fight against corruption.
Only last week, when newly confronted with his options, now that AAP did not win a majority, Kejriwal had said that AAP would under no circumstances enter into an alliance with any other political party. “We are not into the politics of coalitions. We are here to change the nature of politics altogether,” Kejriwal had thundered, adding that his party shall not accept support from either Congress or the BJP and shall govern only when it wins majority of seats. Criticizing AAP on reversing its stance is not really crucial. What is more bizarre is his perception of the core issue upon which the party is founded.
If he were not to form the government since he recognizes a lack of mandate, will a reelection then not amount to wastage of money? To this, Kejriwal retorted back, “So what if another poll were done; it will cost around 50 to 100 crores only…no big deal compared to the 500-crore sums each of those scamsters make.” This is what is so typical about Kejriwal’s responses which should be worrisome. His convenient logic, his personal yardstick around what comprises morality, corruption and necessity – and then his attribution of all that, to a manufactured Aam Aadmi. He can brush aside 50-cr as a petty amount when it conveniences his party’s standing. And the next day he can collude with the 500-cr scamsters to fight corruption. If a few months down the lane, AAP still fails to get a clear majority in a reelection, will he still reject coalition politics – the satta ki rajneeti? What is the tipping point for what comprises a corruption? How many 50-cr adventures need to be conducted before AAP can fight the 500-cr players? Kejriwal has no answers, his Aam Aadmi has – and hence the SMS blitzkrieg that followed – the untold caveat being that one qualifies to be an Aam Aadmi in India only if one votes for his party.
Beyond being just a case of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”, there are far more serious issues of unprincipled politics that need attention in the wake of AAP’s emergence, which remain predictably unquestioned by the awestruck, if not embarrassed poll analysts.
It is simply not a coincidence that while AAP has been described as a media creation, the party in turn has ensured to project Kejriwal as consistently clueless, immature and politically naive. Its public relations campaign has strategically focused on Kejriwal as an Aam Aadmi, not as an astute politician, much to the delight of the politically unconscious. Kejriwal has said time and again that he has no aspiration to become a minister. Following his party’s performance in Delhi, he maintained that it was not AAP which had won; it was instead the victory of the Aam Aadmi. Asked if he would then become the chief minister, his immediate quip has been to herald the Aam Aadmi as the potential leader instead.
But, who will get to choose the Aam Aadmi Chief Minister? And will his party contest in Lok Sabha polls next year? Will these decisions be also left to Aam Aadmi referendums? Turns out, his close coterie of party leaders has already been granted the authority to decide on that. Apparently, it is not just Kejriwal who keeps changing his own stances on political commitments, his Aam Aadmi is equally unsure of his locus standi. Between such flip-flops, however, much to the delight of his Aam Aadmi, Kejriwal has thus far remained vocally, if not adamantly, unambitious.
In disavowing political ambitions, he is neither being spiritual nor naive. Whereas his answers may not be conventionally predictable, they are remarkably appealing in a country sick and tired of its seasoned politicians. Kejriwal has thus figured out the tricks of political manipulations far better than some of his contemporaries. Whereas claiming that politics is not a dirty word – in order to use that argument as a justification for his split with Anna – he is ever so deliberate in attacking the prevailing politics across the spectrum. Not a single political party is worthy of ethical reconsideration, except his own. Even while asserting a need to change the “system from within”, he refuses to identify the inherently corrupt nature of this system that awaits his arrival. While denouncing all and sundry for betraying the legacies of Nehru, Shastri and Patel, he awards himself alone the certificate of authentic heritage. And yet, when he is asked about the responsibilities that lie ahead for him as a possible leader of the nation, he suddenly transforms himself into a nothingness, and shifts the burdens of expectations unto the Aam Aadmi. He carefully omits to invoke Gandhi as a point of reference, perhaps because in an eerie manner, Gandhi would have refused to be part of the AAP, much as the same way Anna Hazare would have refused to be part of the INC. This could be a sheer coincidence in political ironies, or may well be a careful political orchestration. Either way, the genius of Kejriwal in projecting himself as a politician without being a politician is undeniable.
Alas, genius may not always be virtuous. Genius is necessarily a feature of the meritocracy, however. And it is precisely here that Kejriwal is representative of the hypocrisy that engulfs the educated middle class. Indian politics is mired in corruption, communalism and criminalization, as Kejriwal rightly points out, and accuses both Congress and BJP of being their direct champions. But he relies on anecdotal evidences, and probes into their mutual interdependences way too little. After all, corruption is not simply the case of someone hoarding money in the foreign banks, communalism is not simply about identity politics, and criminalization is not just a visible scenario of manpower politics.
Refusal to interrogate further on how the roots of such crisis intersect with, and foster each other is precisely what leads Kejriwal to claim that he will not engage in vote bank rajneeti and will just put everyone in Tihar Jail. This is just as populist a wish as the demands are for the rapists to be sent to the gallows. There is a reason why the death penalty solution is a conservative approach, not a progressive one – and Kejriwal would do well to remember this if he were to sincerely combat the upholders of status quo. Sincere demand for a radical shift in status quo does not aim at overcrowding prisons by empowering a political party with the provisions to emerge as accusers, judges and juries. Instead, it requires that those three Cs be treated as structural issues in India that highlight existing feudal relationships, unjust social hierarchies, hereditary elitisms, discriminatory policies, among many other factors.
By portraying anti-corruption as a neutral agenda that is somehow bereft of hegemonic tendencies in social groups, AAP has catered to the fancies of the rabidly elitist aspirations of the middle class. By harping on the evils of identity politics as an anathema to democracy – a corporate media reasoning that thrives on putting market demand over everything else, AAP has become a darling for the “equality” youth brigade. Indeed, as a way to explain away his indifference towards reservation policies, Kejriwal has said that his party will stress on education and will end reservations. His argument is that if a family has received reservation benefit in the past, even for once, no member of that family can avail reservation again. He follows that argument by not claiming that there are no discriminatory practices, but rather, because they remain. Since untouchability is still prevalent in the hinterlands and since people there do not even know “reservation kis chidiya ki naam hai”, he will do away with reservations and instead focus on education. He furthers that argument with yet another twisted logic: there is a dearth of time on hand to make reservation policies accessible for those suffering from discriminations. Therefore, AAP has education as its top priority to replace reservation or any such minority appeasement policies. How does AAP do that? “By making public schools as efficient as private schools.” And this brings cheers from the apparently caste-less crowd, except that he gets away without explaining how long that process might take, by comparison. If only he knew what it takes to be a Dalit in India, he would know it takes more than one generation of reservation policies as rights, and not as privileges. And it takes more than just rhetoric to survive the onslaughts from upper-caste old boys meritocratic networks. He cannot simply run out of patience to implement policies that most visibly benefit a section of people, while having all the time in the world to hypothetically make education not only accessible to all, but also make it so equitable that private education in India becomes redundant.
Kejriwal’s right hand man Kumar Vishwas refrains from identity politics just as much. So, he picks the Vijay Divas in Delhi to glorify India’s Kargil victory and to promote an ex-serviceman as an AAP candidate (who eventually wins). Vishwas uses the opportunity to rouse the nationalist emotions of the patriotic gathering by asking if the crowd knew Anna Hazare was indeed named after Lord Krishna. He denounces BJP for not having built the temple, while instead initiating the bus diplomacy and hosting Pakistani officials cordially in India. The crowd cheers for Vishwas who emerges as more supremacist than Advani in his fascist hatred towards Pakistan (and, China), while claiming to be no part of the dirty identity politics. Indeed, while Modi has a tough time justifying Patel to the educated Indians, AAP stalwarts effortlessly put Patel and Nehru together as belonging to a single political tradition (of “sacrifice”) – thus himself catering to the Hindu audience and the secular at the same time. In fact, whereas another political party could have been accused of being a fascist outfit for making controversial slogans, Vishwas makes it a point to elicit “Bharat Mata ki Jai” screams off his audience numerous times (so virulent that it would put ABVP to shame) during his speeches reeking of racism, sexism and blatantly reactionary nationalism.
Despite all these elitisms, hypocrisies and rabble-rousing, AAP is today demanding undivided attention. And rightfully so. There may not be much of a lesson for BJP or Congress in all of this, except to better strategize their election plans. But for those political formations that have long strived to represent the interests of the “aam insaan” (not just aadmi, especially in a patriarchy), the lessons are monumental. Communists, for instance, have long campaigned against price rises and for nationalization of essential commodities such as water and electricity; but they have clearly overlooked the need to communicate the same effectively with the masses. Same can be said of many other regional parties as well. But it would be a travesty to credit AAP with just an effective communication plan. It would serve better to remember that Kejriwal and Co. have made an impact purely by consistently opposing the status quo, and by employing the lens of referendum as a way to appeal to the masses. This may or may not be ideal a tactic for the kind of politics one espouses, but for a country that is witnessing a rising middle class and educated youth interacting with social media across classes, the medium itself may be emerging as the message, in the McLuhanisque way. The issues discussed on Twitter are qualitatively different and they demand more attention in the India that is rising and shining. A brief look at agenda-setting in case of Devyani Khobragade is sufficient a hint at the changing nature of political podium. It would not be an overkill to say that AAP has taken this hint, while most other parties have been failing to.
The hint is to radically oppose state of affairs, and then to get an endorsement from the public to acknowledge what have gone abysmally wrong. Whether justice gets secured or not, the clue is in an ability to call out the perpetrators to relieve the victims of suffocation. Time will tell if anything constructive happens beyond the rhetoric, but for the voters at the time being, expression of their rejection is yielding a sense of unprecedented satisfaction. The dialectic that is at play here points to how pessimism towards politics itself has a political potential.
What the AAP as the new Right successfully managed to do, which the Communists as the old Left failed to, is that they capitalized on the growing dissent of the citizenry. Indian Left yet again missed the revolutionary spark provided by the anti corruption moment, just as it was provided by the anti-rape movement. Certainly there was an element of middle-class opportunism in the visible struggles, but as Delhi has demonstrated, it would be increasingly difficult in future to ignore mass protests, whether or not they have petty bourgeois orientations.
In the wave of nationalist hypes associated with this newfound India, the need for social justice sadly may keep getting superseded by demands for resetting majoritarian agendas. Unable to reflect upon the inherent contradictions in a faulty social system and in overzealous ambitions to emerge as a global superpower, we may in fact be making one step forward, three steps backwards.
Just around the time when political radicalism was gaining grounds in the forms of progressive activisms by the women to fight patriarchy, by the Dalits to challenge Hindu terrorism, by the Kashmiris to combat the nationalist narratives or by the uncompromising leftists to support workers in urban sites and oppressed in inaccessible villages, it should come as no surprise that the AAP has received a clean chit from the status quoist media.
The future, in the wake of the Aam Aadmi Party, may indeed therefore emerge bleaker, than before. And its victories may well be tragedies in the making, if we fail to contain our untimely celebrations, and as the aam insaan taken for a ride once more, if we allow their political agendas to be carried out, in our name.
“Fashion determines, in each case, the acceptable limit of empathy.” – Walter Benjamin.
Benjamin belonged to the interwar period that witnessed rise of fascism, actively aided by European intellectuals who were hostile to the masses. The bourgeois was disdainful of the “mass society”, and the ways in which new electronic media were displaying potentials for mass liberations. Its high-brow standards were being threatened by the low-brow tastes of American consumer capitalism. Its exclusive access to the sophisticated art forms was being undermined by the new medium of photography. “Socialist realism” was connecting the masses to what was historically being denied to them in the name of “art”. Writers and intellectuals were becoming the “engineers of the soul” in communist societies that thwarted elitism. Read More
Possibly the greatest myth about the world we inhabit today, is that things are just getting worse everywhere. Apparently, the claim goes, things were all flourishing until a couple of decades ago. People used to be all nicely employed, they owned their own houses, had finest of healthcare, made tons of savings, expressed themselves freely without fear, and were generally happy-go-lucky. And that, things are just plain ugly today, with uncertainties looming large, with privacies encroached upon, people falling prey to corporate propaganda, and intellectual vacuum looming large.
Alas, even the worst myths have some credibility. So let’s start from there – yes, things used to be great for some folks, back in the days. In those good old days. In those abjectly feudal, and overtly colonial eras. Since there was slavery, the plantation owners had it good. Since there were princely states, the royals had it good. Since there were colonial empires, the colonialists had it good. Since there was Apartheid, the racists had it good. In fact, the myth has so much credence that the ruling class of every epoch believed they all had it so good. Quite naturally then “You’ve never had it so good!” became the US Democratic Party campaign slogan in 1952 and was swiftly adapted by the UK Conservative Party five years later. The myth of goodness apparently existed until the advent of the 60’s, if not until the end of the 70’s.
What in the world suddenly changed?
Here’s the shocker: nothing perhaps has changed. Maybe the world is still the same. Whether things were nice and dandy back then depends on who we seek that answer from. Usually, a white privileged male in the US, an upper-caste landlord in India, a French right-wing supremacist in Algeria, among numerous other categories may find things getting worse over the period of time. Whereas a black Afrocentric radical, a feminist of color, a gay man, a disabled woman, a Dalit activist – may in fact claim that either things have remained just the same, or they in fact, have improved. People who were being lynched in the public because of the color of their skin or women who were treated as no more than dishwashers are not the one to complain about the gradual turns of events. They may rightfully complain about the viciously slow growth, but they are in no rush to turn back the clock and tune into the halcyon days. As Louis CK points out rather profoundly regarding white privilege: “I’m not saying that white people are better. I’m saying that being white is clearly better, who could even argue? If it was an option I would re-up ever year. Oh yeah I’ll take white again absolutely, I’ve been enjoying that, I’ll stick with white, thank you. Here’s how great it is to be white, I could get in a time machine and go to any time and it would be fuckin’ awesome when I get there. That is exclusively a white privilege. Black people can’t fuck with time machines. A black guy in a time machine is like hey anything before 1980 no thank you, I don’t want to go.”
History of the world can be written through the lens of the
ruling class, or it can be narrated from the perspectives of the oppressed.
From the lens of the latter then, the world could indeed be making progresses.
It is making progress when we witness women demanding wages for house work, it
is making progress when men join protests against rape culture, it is making
progress when outcastes reject the dominant paradigm, it is making progress
when the racial minorities establish academic departments in hitherto elite universities.
And these progresses do not happen merely incidentally, they do not happen
because of sudden change of hearts; instead they do, because of concerted
efforts and revolutionary movements of the working class – a vital credit which
the ruling class deliberately refuses to concede, lest such experiments become
too commonplace to be suppressed.
Even greater in significance than the myth are the means.
How exactly do the historically oppressed manage to make progresses? After all,
they traditionally lack not just power, but also access; they start out
disadvantaged, with entry behavior knowledge, skills, and abilities
compromised. The dominant understanding of emancipation is that the ruling
structure empowers the oppressed through greater facilitation of resources. The
truth is way unsavory: the historically oppressed invariably always turn
ungrateful towards their ruling masters. They take time to gain the knowledge
to challenge the status quo, make efforts to acquire skills to equip themselves
to face eventualities, and finally work in solidarity to dismantle the
oppressive structures, at times gradually, and at other times suddenly. What
usually seems spontaneous in revolutionary framework is invariably always a
result of prolonged preparations and wait for the opportune moment.
Among the means to challenge and dismantle structures, the
most pivotal one comprises education. Historically, slaves and landless
peasants used to be educated by their masters with the sole purpose of becoming
more efficient servants, and yet some of those ingrates after having their
consciousness raised about their oppressed conditions through the newly
acquired knowledge, then used to utilize that very transformation as a tool
against their own masters. This is an inevitable process pertaining to
historical stages of development. The greed of the ruling class, the tactic of
the oppressed class, and the revolution as the synthesis.
Media of all kinds are only extensions of that irresistible
weapon of education, that ineluctable tool of emancipation.
The historically oppressed have always tried to seize the
media and to make them work in their mission to overthrow the systems of
oppressions. At times, they have succeeded. And at other times they have been
defeated. This was true for print media, it was true for electronic media, and
it is true for digital/online media.
The ruling class interpretation however has been starkly
different. Obsessed as it remains with keeping the oppressed duly invisible,
and focused as it remains with its own profit charts, the ruling class
interpretations are concerned only with the conversation its own team members
have with each other. As a result, both liberal and conservative publications
entirely leave out narratives that have direct impacts on the racially
oppressed, for instance. The need for black underground press in the US rose
specifically to challenge the prevailing discourses between educated whites who
shaped media agenda while entirely ignoring existing racial tensions as a structural
given, not as a symptomatic aberration. Most of the researches conducted at
elite schools focus therefore, on media monopolies and the gory sketches of
their battles to redraw the maps of territorial conquests. They remain
oblivious to the underground rebellions by innumerable insurgents, at times
deliberately oblivious because they are convinced that the noisemakers are not
aspiring for a takeover. And more often than not, they are right. A political
analysis will draw the parallel between the nature of the colonizers and the
nature of the colonized. Whereas the colonizers worry about expanding their
territories, the revolting masses only are interested in their own
And so is the case of media. Huge majority of the world
possibly has no interest to become media moguls. Rupert Murdoch is neither
their competition, nor their enemy. The anti-poor, racist, casteist policies
furthered by their oppressive governments are their concerns. Reclaiming a
country’s past (sic) glory is not something they remain bothered about,
especially since that system never worked for them anyway. Besides, the
majority rightfully demands for a life with basic needs fulfilled, and not
everyone thinks that unlimited greed is a good thing. And so they are interested
in subverting the dominant paradigms without needing to reinforce those very
undesirabilities themselves. From radical comic strips to basement mixtapes,
from underground hip-hop to homemade newspapers – the creative subversion of
media over the time has been aimed at being emancipatory without being
necessarily competitive. The producers of these media have been jailed by the
authorities, harassed by the communities, and ostracized by the advertisers.
But the quest to challenge the dominant media narratives has never ceased
anywhere in the world at any point of history.
And so it is with the Internet and online media.
Started as a militarist project, aided by money from the
capitalist regime, Internet has been subject to sustained appropriations by
hackers, hobbyists and housewives. In the times of big corporate media engaged
in mergers and acquisitions, Internet has enabled plethora of independent
bloggers, many remaining anonymous, and most continuing to update their
platforms without necessarily fear of authorities or expectations of profits.
They are aware of their state of being othered, marginalized and oppressed. And
they are in no hurry to make compromises, while steadfastly remaining glued to
making revolts. Many of them are even found micro-blogging on Facebook and
Twitter, making alliances with strangers all around the world, generating
consensus with hashtags, and creating alternative universities in the virtual
world where conventional, institutionalized truths are massacred and unfounded
claims are doubly, nay, innumerably checked for veracity. Internet has provided
for Afrocentric literatures that could never be found in public libraries or
dominant media’s breaking news, it has allowed for interviews with those
freedom fighters to be shared and archived, who would never get an invitation
from any of the four estates of democracy.
There are challenges to Internet of course; enormous ones.
Just as there were challenges to all previous and contemporary forms of media.
But there are opportunities too on Internet; enormous ones. For one, it
provides access to those who can access it, which is far greater an empowerment
compared to, let’s say, writing a letter to the editor of a print newspaper,
while waiting for it to be published uncensored. Secondly, the social media
bring people together, virtually if so desired, and for real, if so. It allows
for more people to get informed about and to participate in a protest rally, an
Occupy demonstration, an awareness march against sexism. All one needs to do is
post an event, provide a backgrounder, interact with the audience to answer any
question, make changes to the plans real time, cover the event for those who
could not attend, and archive it for future references. Not to discount the
difficulties or even impossibilities of such networking at the face of enormous
digital divide that has rendered majority of people without access to Internet,
to begin with. But to underline the fact that Internet, when enabled, emerges
greater as an accessible form of media than any other. The need therefore is to
democratize it and to make it universally accessible, to make it truly
For the teeming millions, the question is often not about
ownership. The question is about participation. The joy lies not in
monopolizing. It lies in distributing. Maybe it is how most of us have simply
been raised – amidst the sheer joys in, or necessities of sharing. And
therefore it becomes our second nature to simply enjoy the very fact that we
are able to share new information with each other, through blogging, through
micro-blogging, through file-sharing. Maybe that something which appears to be
unproductive by the ruling class is something we just tend to be doing over and
over again. In an otherwise individualistic, secretive world reveling in
distrust, suspicion and increasing abandonment of neighbors, maybe the virtual
media is what boldly caters to our needs. Who knows if it is good, bad or ugly.
For sure, at least for now, the authorities think it is threatening them. This
coming together of people who disregard their carefully assigned social
locations and organize themselves for a common cause that transcends boundaries
set by the ruling class. Maybe that is what is a constant irritant to the
historically oppressive ones, and for that reason alone, it must continue as a
No wonder, Obama’s NSA is after these people, these global
ungrateful netizens. In the most recent development, Verizon which at first
denied, and later admitted of having turned over the call records of millions
of American citizens to the NSA has, only this September, testified in the
court that it wants to prioritize those websites and services that are willing
to shell out for better access. Verizon has made it clear that the company
would block online content from those companies or individuals who do not pay
its tolls – obviously undermining Net Neutrality principle. Concerned by the
NSA and its corporate partners such as Verizon, Brazil has become the first
country to propose rejecting America’s web authority. President Dilma Rousseff
has recently ordered a series of measures to ensure Brazilian online
independence and security to defy NSA interceptions. The way Brazil wants to do
this is by compelling Facebook, Google and other US companies to store all data
related to its citizens locally on Brazilian servers and by pushing for new
international rules on privacy and security through the UN General Assembly.
Its potential effectiveness, or even viability, is yet to be evaluated, but it
is certainly something that may encourage other countries to follow suit. This
suspicion also underlines the refusal on part of international community to be
convinced by Obama’s assurances regarding user privacies. The bigger concern of
course is if the anti-Americanism itself may then give way to invincible
national repressions. Will it be any more ethically sustainable on part of
other countries, to filter contents or to keep a watch over their respective
Answers to that already exist within the US, where many a
domestic horror stories remain untold until after a case reaches a court of
appeals. The most invisible ones are related to Internet freedom, precisely
because any expose of that would discredit the country’s long standing, albeit
hypocritical, claims on free speech, while equating it with let’s just say,
China. Or, for that matter, with India. When two girls landed in trouble over
commenting on Facebook about Bal Thackeray, it made world headline last year.
And yet the US has been persecuting its own citizens for much lesser Facebook
activisms that go unnoticed. In 2009, six employees at the Hampton Sheriff’s
office in Virginia lost their jobs after registering their ‘likes’ on the
Facebook page of the person who contested their boss in an election. Two of
those employees, Deputy Daniel Carter and Robert McCoy, filed a lawsuit
claiming they were fired by Sheriff B.J. Roberts specifically for liking a
Facebook profile for Roberts’ opponent, Jim Adams and as many as four years
later, only last month, a court of appeals decided that liking something on
Facebook was the “Internet equivalent of displaying a political sign in one’s
front yard” and hence it would be considered protected speech.
While the cat-and-mouse game persists, losing sight over the
pattern would be a travesty. Harassment of the audience based on their media
consumption, or arrests of producers based on their media activism is not a new
trend. Neither is encroachment on individual privacy rights as is being largely
claimed following Snowden’s grand revelations. The entire saga of FBI is
nothing, if not one state sponsored and violence-laden surveillance program.
The Red Scare, the infamous Smith Act, McCarthyism, the war on Black Panthers
are all among numerous systematic assaults on privacy rights in the US.
The truth is there never were any golden days of freedom and
equality for the world in the past, as is being felt nostalgic about these
days. Unless, we value the life of, or demand for freedom by the most oppressed
as being inherently lesser – since there have been substantial outcries against
oppression at every stage of history, most of them not just regarded as such
only because the history textbooks follow ruling class ethos. Only when we take
the starting point of analysis as one where the status quo is considered to
have remained virtually the same, if not emerged better, we can recognize that
more people – even purely quantitatively speaking – are able to join global
resistance against capitalism and express themselves today, than ever before.
And this political opportunity has opened itself up, because as the bearded old
men have hinted at, the Internet may indeed be what the capitalism has produced
to further its own gains, and yet, it may eventually become its own
grave-digger. As more desperate measures are taken to control Internet and as
even more resistance surfaces to free it – through the radical voices of the
hitherto underrepresented – the fall of ruling elites and the victory of
hashtaggers will become equally inevitable.
Cyclone Phailin is not over yet, and Orissa is not all about Bhubaneswar. If lessons be learnt from 1999, there’s an enormous amount of work to be done, beginning with the administration ending its premature jubilation. Even as this cyclone did not prove to be as catastrophic as the ’99 one, we must not undermine the challenges that are ahead of us. Evacuation is not enough, rehabilitation is the key. Farmers, fishers and the poor in the vulnerable coastal belts devoid of ecological balances, wrought upon them through corporate greed – are the sections of population that will be the worst sufferers. 500,000 hectares of crops have been damaged and the already impoverished state of Orissa has been relegated further down.
I am sharing below, my journey as a reporter during the 1999 “super cyclone” when the team of Asian Age (and later on, Hindustan Times) covered it extensively. Some of these recollections have pure nostalgic values, but many are pointers to what may lie ahead.
1999 – the year of the super cyclone – was the year I started my professional career in journalism. After my studies at IIMC, I left Delhi and my short stint there with Economic Times, to return to my hometown, Bhubaneswar. And, within a couple of months, the first major story of my life was to welcome me at the Asian Age office.
And what a remarkable welcome it was to be. I started with creating layouts and subbing copies at the desk. And even as I actually quite enjoyed QuarkXpress, I wanted to be on the field as well. I wanted to bunk my afternoon classes at the university and do some reports. Besides, I had gained some field experiences investigating “dropsy scare” while at Economic Times. So I could not wait to interview people and address various issues affecting Orissa.
But my appointment with Asian Age was as a sub-editor, not as a reporter. Our office was located in a forbidden zone, at an “industrial complex” far away from the city; resembling a ghost town. And I used to return home around 3am every night after “releasing” the paper and smelling the first copy by the printer. Along with two of my colleagues at the desk and three colleagues from the I.T. department, we had among ourselves formed a solidarity network. We were fairly young a team. At 22, I was possibly the youngest. We felt overworked, underpaid, untimely hungry, and too damn tired, every night. And there was no working around that…
My resident editor, however, wanted to give me a chance to work as a reporter as well, since I insisted I could do both the field and the desk jobs. And the breakthrough came when I was told I could cover the “weather” beat. This first seemed hilarious to me, since even as a reader, I never read a weather report in a newspaper. For us Oriyas, weather could be predicted by looking at the sky. And I had no idea where the local Met office was, anyway. It was quite telling, that a beat was being assigned to a reporter who had no idea where the experts in his/her field worked!
I still took up the offer and wondered if I would ever get a byline for a weather story in an otherwise quaint climate of Bhubaneswar. Maybe I needed to wait for the next summer when the sunstrokes would make some mundane but required news items. Reporters can be ruthless about the news factors, and I was no exception. As a sub-editor, I was already aware of what made “hard news”. It had to involve deaths; in fact, not just deaths, shocking deaths. We were professional sadists. More the mayhem, greater the glee. A train accident made the font size go bigger. An assassination led to multiple column stories. And the more local a tragedy, the more space allotted to a reporter. Alas! In Bhubaneswar, there was no such hard news. A few press conferences here and there. And some quite predictable and boring political shuffles.
In October, when the “depression” set in by neighboring Andhra Pradesh, it was the first hour of alert. For me, something was brewing, but I was still not sure of its scope. Our Met department narratives were unconvincing during the day and when I thought of covering the story for the front page, it was past the office hours that evening. So I set out to the only cyber cafe in the town, ‘Message Cafe’, owned and operated by Ajay Raut, a young man of extraordinary optimism. Ajay bhai greeted me and assured every support possible to make my story a breaking one. Purely an online investigation, at slow but consistent dial-up connection, we together gathered an array of documents and screenshots of weather reports that I was to carry with me back to my office that October evening of 1999.
My byline finally featured on the first page of the newspaper. My resident editor Soumyajit Pattnaik, a dynamic new entrant into Orissa media circle from his previous stint at the Pioneer in Delhi, praised my efforts. I soon discovered he and I shared a common passion for the new media and how internet was impacting the newsroom.
I compiled an “All you wanted to know” piece on cyclone for the interested readers. It was the first of its kind in local journalism and attracted due attention.
When the first tropical cyclone arrived, we could do all the analysis, but it still claimed 61 human lives. It was quite an alarming sign to what was in store the next month. I wrote a front page piece on what results in such unpredictable a cyclone and what Coriolis Effect was. But what also occurred to me was how 61 lives were lost and yet the central government was least bothered. There was hardly any funding coming in to the state and the political apathy was quite telling.
On October 22, I wrote a story detailing how Delhi’s help vis-a-vis the Calamity Relief Fund was merely a straw in the wind for the affected in Orissa. The primary reason for the thousands of lives to be lost in the subsequent super cyclone was primarily rooted in this lack of financial support for the state.
Back in Orissa, in apprehension of the approaching super cyclone, “black-marketing” remained in full force. I focused on the most essential of commodities – kerosene oil which was being sold at seven times its normal rate. I cited legal precedents via the newspaper to prompt the state government to take action and to stay alert on future abuses of the laws (which surely happened).
Without adequate central government funding, without any check on corrupt practices by the trading class and without any lessons learnt from the tropical cyclone that had already claimed 61 lives, Bhubaneswar and the coastal belt of Orissa awaited what our newsroom declared on its first edition following the most disastrous cyclone to have hit Orissa – Apocalypse.
The super cyclone – that I termed later on as “Killer Cyclone” because I was not comfortable with the glorification of this disaster – had its worst manifestations on October 29, 1999. It was so ferocious, and so catastrophic and so unbelievable, that nothing compared to it in recent history.
As young journalists, we were all excited beyond measure and wanted to cover it in the best possible manners. But the physical limitations were overpowering our will. On the one hand there was no electricity and no one had a clue when it was going to be restored. Electricity in Orissa those days as such was a privilege during regular times! On the other hand, the city we knew to be filled with greenery was now ravaged beyond repair. Literally hundreds of thousands of trees were uprooted. Highways were blocked, let alone the streets and roads. The city entirely unprepared for this disaster became a city without any law and order. Forget about the nights, even the days were no longer safe for anyone. Not just from the want of food materials, but also from electric wires. There was no question of taking a car out on the roads. The only vehicles such as small two-wheelers (Luna mopeds!) could be lifted up if needed to cross over tree logs that were heavier than most bikes. Or, of course, the good old bicycles were the best alternatives.
Our office as noted earlier, was in a ghost town – Mancheswar Industrial Estate – whose streets were dark even during normal evening hours. Following the cyclone, there was no way to navigate that path, even as all of us colleagues were raring to get out and inform the public about the extent of onslaughts.
My friend and senior sub-editor Pranesh Dey dragged his bike to my house within hours of the cyclone ending its exploits. My father, a veteran investigative journalist himself, was left speechless and astonished. As protective as he was, there was no way I was allowed to venture out in this climate. Following conversations between my parents, finally, my father relented, and Pranesh bhai and I went around the city to inspect the extent of damages. It was a spectacle we would never forget.
But we could not venture much, as the roads were so filled with trees that it could literally take months to go around all corners of this small town. All public service utilities were shut down, and so were the media. Without power, it was impossible to imagine that any newspaper office would resume anytime soon.
We had different plans though. Much to our great delight, our management and editorial team decided that we would be the first and only newspaper in Bhubaneswar to resume operations under these conditions. Instead of coming in around the evening hours, we decided to work afternoon through evening. And using generator to pull electricity. An expensive proposition, but what a thrilling one!!!
There was obviously no internet and so no Delhi edition, no FTP connections, and no Mr. M.J. Akbar to know about this edition, let alone admonish us on failing on the style sheet. Our underground team comprised our resident editor Soumyajit Pattnaik, utterly brilliant chief of desk, V. Kaushik Kumar, creative superhero and subeditor Pranesh Dey, reporters Elisa Patnaik, Sandeep Mishra, Akshaya Sahoo, photographer Ashok Panda, sub editors Sanjay Nath, Alaka Sahani and Saswat Pattanayak – together, we worked on the greatest layout we had ever created for the newspaper. And since this much smaller edition was literally a team work, we decided against bylines for anyone. It was the first paper that was produced entirely at the desk. We worked at record speed. And we upped the headline font to defy all rules. And so excited we were – amidst the miserable conditions just outside the office building, which we had managed to reach with immense difficulties.
By the time the paper was released – and in small numbers of prints that day – it had grown dark. We were fearing for not just the occasional “highway bandits”, but also for the wildlife animals on the loose. Snakes were a major concern where our office was. And it was a long long night back home. Getting off from our bikes and bicycles and jumping over the trees and live electric wires, it was an adventure we would never forget.
Amidst my thrilling adventures, I had not entirely forgotten how worried my family would be. Knowing my father, and without telephone connectivity, I was especially concerned. And just as I had guessed, on my way back from work, I found him in the middle of the road with a torchlight in his hand, searching for me on a bicycle! I had never seen him in such a helpless and worried state as that night. My colleagues were also amazed to see him so concerned, and finally, we all happily returned home.
Happiness was less for the safe return as it was because of the anticipation for the next morning. In the wee hours, Pranesh bhai and I headed to the Rajmahal Square to celebrate the arrival of the only newspaper that detailed the cyclone. In fact, the only newspaper that was published the night before! What a moment of joy and pride it was for us! And while deeply cognizant of what terrible times awaited the sufferers.
It was almost a surreal moment that made us take a pause and interrogate ourselves. The more tragic a news was, the more fulfilled we felt as journalists. Between our roles as disseminators of news, we were clearly refusing to recognize our privileges of having been alive, been doing well despite all the darings, and more importantly, celebrating the journalism component of it instead of joining the statewide mourning for the loss of lives.
And at some point thereafter, moving away from the celebrations, we focused on our duties as informers, investigators and potential agitators. Something simply was not going well. We were struck by the thousands who were rendered homeless, who should not have been in that state, to begin with. The worst sufferers were the people who were homeless even before the cyclone ravaged the state. The next day I had a front page “anchor” story that highlighted the good amidst the ugly, the reconstruction amidst the destructions, and the helping hands of volunteers that were attempting to overpower the tight grips of the bureaucrats. And I wrote:
“The whole populace has not been left helpless. And take heart, the providers of silver lining in a cloud of grey for the cyclone-hit ones, do not have political affiliations and are in no mood to earn publicity. In tempestuous times like these, if solidarity ought to be maintained, the students of the city are definitely doing their bit to strengthen it.”
The idea was to bring a smile and some hope. And to use journalism as an empowering vehicle. We noticed that it was never truer than then. Highlighting the ways people were positively contributing to rehabilitation efforts was one of the ways I thought we could inspire more into emulating them. From students to the Red Cross, we covered every effort, no matter how small or big. For it was one thing to write about scandals affecting an individual or accidents involving a few, but quite another to write about the disasters awaiting millions of people, majority of whom being poor.
People of Orissa were about to suffer for the next decade due to the 1999 cyclone. It’s impacts were not immediately going to be known. They could only be estimated. Restoration of the green vegetation was to take at least another ten years, and we highlighted the environmental impacts of the disaster and the need to rapidly restore the greenery.
“Oil is not Well” ran the slug for my ongoing stories on the kerosene mismanagement. Fair price shops were conveniently shut down and the government did not do a thing about it. Hoarding of kerosene continued unabated well into the second week since the cyclone. Police force was not deployed around the areas of conflicts where endless queues were observed for a litre of kerosene.
The courage of Oriyas in fighting against odds, injustices and climatic challenges has been indomitable. Despite the tremendous after-effects of super cyclone, the city of Bhubaneswar had resolved to resume its operations. The city was still engulfed in darkness, electric poles were still twisted out of shape, educational institutions were closed for indefinite periods and majority of people still refused to get out of their homes. But on the other hand, the community of volunteers was ready to police the city by the nights, young students lined up to pack relief materials – food and medicines – for the needy. When our editor was away to a meeting in Delhi, I wrote an entirely unplanned piece declaring that we could withstand it all –
“In turbulent times as these, not everything goes inimical. Observable vicarious emotions among the city folks was previously even unheard of. From clearing lanes to lifting buckets of water, the city fraternity is helping getting back the vivacious look of the city. It may take a few more years to make it clean and green once more, but the wave of solidarity being displayed has certainly overpowered the wave of cyclone that had swept the city off its dreams.”
While the battle was ongoing against the impacts, it still puzzled us as to why our Met office had failed at predicting the enormity beforehand. Continuing from the Coriolis effect story, I ran a piece exploring the reasons why we failed to comprehend the potential the second time.
Not only had we failed to apprehend the weather, we also failed to apprehend the corruptions. Hundreds of NGOs lined up to cash in on the crisis. Tata Sumo appeared as the symbol of non-profit sector that immensely profited from the tragedy. I ran a few stories highlighting the corruption in the NGO sector which invited a lot of ire. And when I broke the story on Red Cross, the smaller fish on the ocean of misappropriated philanthropy finally stopped complaining. But when Red Cross failed, we knew most of the relief efforts were going to also subsume under waves of corruption. From the British High Commissioner to the Bollywood, everyone visited Orissa with a “human face” to promise help that never quite was delivered.
My fellow colleagues Sandeep Mishra and Akshaya Sahoo broke many a stories detailing bureaucratic corruptions at various levels. Starvation deaths, expired medicines, decaying bodies and epidemic threats were reported from all over the coastal belt, especially from Erasama, Jagatsinghpur. I visited Jagatsinghpur during the third week of November and during my investigation, noticed that despite the desperate needs and allotments, not a single blanket had reached the villagers.
In my interviews with the affected in Jagatsinghpur, I found out that there was enormous amount of bureaucratic mishandling. In place of the required 767,181 blankets, there was, zero. A villager said, “Every time a team of babus arrive in Manijanga, we make out way there, but are disappointed as many times. We get nothing more than 500 gm of rice. When do not get even chuda (flattened rice) as required, who will give us blankets to cover our bodies from shivering cold in roofless nights?”
When I decided to visit Paradip and Jagatsinghpur, my father insisted on accompanying. He admitted of not having seen anything like this on the way. Everywhere we went, stinks followed, and approached. Of rotten crops, dead animals, unattended bodies.
There were at least two major corruptions during Orissa super cyclone. If one was the blanket, the other was polythene supply. Whereas the government continued to claim that sufficient polythene rolls had arrived, the local officials claimed otherwise. And during another investigation in Jagatsinghpur I found out that the actual rolls received were far less than the claim was. In Paradip, for instance, there was not a single polythene roll yet. In the entire region, as against the requirement of 51,144, there was a supply of only 4,482 rolls.
Two months subsequent to that, when I made another follow-up, I reached the conclusion that not much had changed in Jagatsinghpur. The worst affected population in a coastal region comprised the fishermen and women, and the government had miserably failed at taking care of their needs to build up boats so they could resume their works.
Killer cyclone of 1999 left behind not just a trail of devastations that needed several years of honest, dedicated governance – which Orissa sorely lacked, it also left behind memories of courageous battles with the nature’s ravaging plans. The aftereffects were almost indistinguishable from the catastrophe itself. Our state government was mired by corruptions – political and bureaucratic, and the global media had even failed to report the cyclone beyond a single column.
The 1999 killer cyclone had caused the deaths of nearly 10,000 human beings, killing 400,000 livestock, impacting the lives of 12 million people, 7,921 villages, damaging 800,000 houses, 1.67 million hectares of agricultural lands and rendering 400 villages inaccessible as of May, 2000.
That is around the time when I was approached by the eminent political scientist of the state and a critical commentator whom I deeply admire, Professor Biswaranjan, to write a book on the entire bureaucratic fiasco, the ongoing courageous battles and the difficult challenges that lie ahead for Orissa. And we both co-authored the very first book exclusively devoted to what we called the Killer Cyclone of 1999: “Knock and the Rise”. Dr. Bibudharanjan from Puri helped publish it through Insight, and the new Chief Minister of Orissa Naveen Patnaik inaugurated the book.
In the meantime, Asian Age decided to exit from Orissa and shut down Utkal Age. And around the same time, Hindustan Times decided to make its entry into Orissa. I was interviewed by a panel from Delhi, and was initially recommended to work in Kolkata. I wanted to stay back in Bhubaneswar, however, for two primary reasons – one, I was falling in love in the middle of the storm, with my friend Amrita Misra – and there was simply no working around that! And two, I also wanted to follow-up more on the cyclone aftermath, and my going away to Kolkata was not going to be useful. Everything went in my favor, as both Amrita and I started working together for HT.
While following up on the cyclone, among other stories, I explored how there was something that the people grappled with and which escaped attention of the media: intense trauma/PTSD. Even after 16 months, the psychological crisis was left unresolved by a state clearly ill-equipped to address them. The most vulnerable people during any disaster are the ones who are left behind in the race to make sense of their lives. Even while the relief materials were being air-dropped, we used to witness the most able-bodied men ending up receiving the most for themselves, leaving behind women, children, and the ones on the fringes, the ones with physical and mental disabilities. For the following story, I interviewed Prof. J.P. Das (Alberta) and Prof. R.N. Kanungo (McGill) to explore why the cyclone was nowhere yet leaving Orissa. This was the first time that PTSD started getting discussed in the media, and we gained immensely from the expertise and pioneering works of Ms. Kasturi Mohapatra of Open Learning Systems, Bhubaneswar.
Before joining Ranchi as part of the new Hindustan Times edition there the following year, I did a last report on the cyclone, a nostalgic piece on “How green was my home”…Never could I allow myself to imagine that Orissa may have to endure a killer cyclone of that ferocity ever again.
With Cyclone Phailin now leaving behind a trail of destruction, it occurs to me that it’s not all over yet. With the loss of greenery from the ’99 cyclone and the subsequent deforestations caused by POSCO and corporate greed, the journey is only going to be uphill and more difficult. Certainly the lives lost this time are going to be far less, and surely the capital city of Bhubaneswar has been spared, but this is too early to say about the extent of actual damages, and too naive to assume the final estimate, in the entire region, beyond the city. I shall keep a watch from afar on the reporting in the rural Orissa and of any possible repetitions of “man-made” mistakes from 1999 days. Thirteen years ago, when Naveen Patnaik had received “Knock and the Rise” the first time, he had promised to take a look at the pointers therein, and I – along with Adhyapak Biswaranjan would be sure to follow up on his promise. That book is out of print, but thankfully, my father has reproduced portions of it for availability to the administration and Orissamatters.com will remain alert against any falsified claims that may be made by the administration in the coming months/years.
These days when I shut down my apartment’s glass windows in New York City – despite Hurricane Sandy, I feel much more protected, lot more privileged and far less adventurous. And very much alive. Not all of us are often fortunate to withstand nature’s wraths. But when we do, it is only because we have had the privilege, not because we take anything for granted. The lesson to learn and to implement is that we need to redistribute that privilege, to learn from historical blunders. In such trying times during the aftermath of Phailin, I can only advise, through sharing of my experiences, that in future months, we must do everything possible to raise awareness, consciousness and efforts so that people do not continue to line up for petrol and kerosene and sugar – something that we already witnessed in the week before Phailin approached. That, the medicines they receive as relief materials are not expired. That, they are not in want of blankets and polythene sheets as the winter will position itself with the floods in coming months. That the starvation deaths do not continue to rise (or, be denied) in the pretext of the cyclonic aftermath. That, the massive evacuation efforts alone do not count towards the success, until all the evacuated people have been rehabilitated adequately. That, those of us who can access Internet suddenly do not write away the plights of those who still cannot convey their needs, to those already congratulating each other, in power.