About falling and the moustache...

A jocular Tamil proverb sarcastically portrays a man who denies losing his balance and falling flat on his face on the ground. He would show the people around him a clean moustache devoid of sand. The man hoped the others would believe he was a macho man who never fell. (குப்புற விழுந்தாலும் மீசையில் மண் ஒட்டவில்லை - the said proverb.)

This proverb has been playing in my mind over the past few days during the recently paused India-Pakistan War. 

It started with a band of terrorists crossing over from Pakistan, killing 26 tourists just because they were not Muslims and retreating back into Pakistan. Pakistan vehemently denied being part of the killing or even harbouring any terrorists at all in their country. This heart-wrenching moment, especially the one involving a 6-day married honeymooning couple and a father shot in front of his wife and young son, stirred India to take retaliatory actions.

Both sides flaunted their military toys, and the war games were flagged off. The only thing is that these were not games. People actually died.

Then, the media war started. Both sides were quick to announce their kills and successes. Loud cries of jingoism filled the air. Visuals of destroyed enemy planes and sites filled cyberspace. The only thing is that, as pointed out by their enemies, much of the footage was old pictures of unrelated events. Citing military secrecy, many images of damaged sites were kept under wraps. So what actually happened is anybody's guess.

Finally, both sides seem to be congratulating themselves on a well-done job. Both boast of inflicting much pain and destruction. They claim to be on the side of truth, and truth prevails in the end. Perhaps, time would be the best judge. In time, all the putrefying rots would start stinking. Maybe then, we would know where each country stands. 

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A biopic or fiction?

IC 814: The Kandahar Hijack (Hindi, miniseries. Ep1-6)

Director: Abhinav Sinha

It was the last Christmas season of the 20th century. The airports had not yet begun instructing passengers to remove belts and shoes before check-in, as the Twin Towers had not yet fallen. A simple hand wave would suffice to get one to the boarding area. That was the situation at Kathmandu airport on Christmas Eve 1999, when Indian Airlines flight IC841 departed for Delhi at around 4 p.m. 

Forty minutes into the flight, as they were entering Indian airspace, a masked passenger entered the cockpit (yes, it was not a security zone then). Just as a steward entered to serve drinks, the masked passenger put a knife to the steward's throat and announced that the plane had been hijacked. Indian air traffic control was informed; however, the information did not filter down through the chain of command appropriately. Bureaucracy and apathy were to blame. After all, India had just fought a war in Kargil a few months earlier, and security was supposed to be on high alert. Many high-ranking officers, meant to be on top of things, only learned about it from the media. 

The hijackers wanted the plane diverted to Lahore, but the Pakistanis outrightly refused landing rights. Even the efforts of the Indian High Commissioner proved futile. With critical fuel levels, IC841 had to land in Amritsar to refuel. The plan was to keep the plane on Indian soil while negotiators struck a deal with the hijackers and potentially incapacitated the machine. Sensing something was amiss, the hijackers fled before refuelling, leaving Indian officials staring at an empty tarmac. 

In the meantime, pandemonium was the order of the day on board. Passengers were cowed into submission. Two passengers were stabbed, one fatally. The flight captain pleaded with Lahore to allow the Airbus to land with hardly any fuel. It was again denied. The runway lights were turned off. Only when the pilot was about to land on the national highway did the airport permit landing. Again, Indian representatives failed to arrive on time to negotiate. After refuelling, the plane left Lahore. 

Now, the hijackers wanted to go to Kandahar in Afghanistan. As we remember, Afghanistan in 1999 was a pariah state, ruled by a ruthless Taliban administration. Many countries, including India, did not recognise its government. Kandahar Airport could not handle night landings, as it did not have the necessary facilities, so the hijackers' request was denied. IC814 was hovering around the Arabian Sea, hoping any Gulf states could take them in. They stopped at a Dubai airbase and refuelled in exchange for 27 hostages, including the 2 stabbed passengers, with one dead and left for Afghanistan. 

The plane finally landed in Kandahar on Christmas morning. The next seven days involved intense negotiations. The process proved complex, as India did not recognise the Taliban government. Therefore, it could not send its representatives there and depended on the Indian High Commission in Islamabad and the United Nations. Mediation was complicated with the Taliban since they were not in total control. Osama Bin Laden and ISIS also ruled over a large part of the country, having a say in the running of Afghanistan.

The dilemma faced by the Indian government and its agencies was how to balance giving too much to the terrorists while ensuring the safe return of the passengers. 

For the safe return of passengers, three dangerous terrorists in Indian jails had to be released. The five hijackers were never captured. The released terrorists (Masood Azhar, Omar Sheikh, and Mushtaq Zargar) were later found to be instrumental in many terror activities in India and around the world. The eternal question is whether releasing these nearly 200 passengers in exchange for freeing the three infamous criminals was worthwhile. The criminals ended up killing many more innocent people, causing immense destruction, and being the catalyst for all the chaos we face in the world today. In 1999, with tremendous pressure from the media and the public, making a deal with the hijackers seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Since this web series was released, Netflix has faced significant backlash. The authorities summoned even the Netflix Head of India to address specific queries. The general Indian public has been outraged over two issues. Firstly, intelligence investigations into the entire incident suggested that the whole hostage event was orchestrated by the ISI of Pakistan. The ISI's fingerprints were evident in the planning and execution of the act. Nowhere in the series were the ISI or Pakistan depicted as the antagonists.

Secondly, it is common knowledge that religion provided an essential foundation for the hijacking. The hijackers were all Muslims, and their demand was the release of Islamic extremists. In the eyes of viewers, the filmmakers downplayed this fact. The hijackers' religion was obscured by the use of their codenames throughout. Surprisingly, Bhola and Shankar openly refer to Lord Shiva, the Lord of destruction, while the other codenames—Doc, Chief, and Burger—were secular. Are they attempting to convey to the unassuming, ignorant audience that the hijackers were part of the Hindu terrorism that the opposition to the BJP's rule is trying to promote? Later, Netflix published a disclaimer listing the hijackers' full names in the credits, but this notice was only provided for the Indian audience. The rest of the world can continue believing that the whole incident was part of the Hindu terror that the leftists are propagating. When their co-conspirators were changed, the court documents mentioned the hijackers' codenames as one of their many aliases.

Additionally, the series attempts to humanise the terrorists. Picture the hijacker offering a concerned flight attendant his phone so she can call and check on her sick father in Delhi. In another scene, a romantic connection between a stewardess and one of the hijackers is suggested. After witnessing two passengers being stabbed before their eyes, it seems unreasonable to depict, in one scene, the passengers and hijackers clapping and singing together in a game of antakshari. (It's too early for Stockholm Syndrome to settle in, right?)

The producers claim the entire offering is based on actual events and have no qualms about using footage from yesteryears. Yet they thought it was essential to change the names of the airline crew and the government officials. ISI comes out squeaky clean from this whole fiasco. They bask in depicting a grossly incompetent bunch of bumbling Indian bureaucrats awkwardly trying to defuse a volatile situation. Anyway, the experience of handling such situations was lacking in that era. The director failed to show urgency in their efforts, some of which are even comical.

Furthermore, the event occurred in a hostile foreign land, unrecognised by the government of the day. Is it a coincidence that the ruling coalition then was the same one ruling today? What are they implying—that the present government is also weak?

** The 2001 Indian Parliament attack, the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Daniel Pearl, the 2008 Mumbai attacks, the 2016 Pathankot attack, and the 2019 Pulwama attack. Azhad later founded Jaish-e-Muhammed (JeM) in 2000, which gained notoriety for the deaths of hundreds of people and armed forces personnel. Sheikh was arrested in 2002 in Pakistan for Daniel Pearl's abduction and murder, and played a role in planning the September 2001 attacks in the U.S. Zargar has actively trained Islamic militants in Pakistan-administered Jammu & Kashmir.

Also, the story's production value needed to be more compelling. The urgency felt by the hostages' fear and apprehension was not adequately transferred to the screen, and the desperation of the whole event was not palpable.

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It's one country!

Article 370 (Hindi; 2024)

Director, Screenplay: Aditya Suhas Jambhale

In some circles, the mention of abrogating Article 370 is a bad word. In their mind, it denotes a loss of independence, dignity, and rights. As complicated as this issue is, it gets more convoluted as time passes, and politicians with personal agendas get intertwined in the imbroglio.

The story of Kashmir goes back to the time of Indian Independence. It is all about religion and whether it should be acceded to India or Pakistan. When Great Britain wanted to give India independence, Kashmir, being a princely state, i.e. run by royalty, was given the option of joining India or Pakistan. The ruler of Jammu and Kashmir, Maharajah Hari Singh, wanted to stay alone. The problem is the ruler was a Hindu in a predominantly Muslim population. The local popular political parties closely associated with Jinnah's Muslim League were adamant about joining Pakistan.

What happened afterwards depends on who tells the story, Indians or Pakistanis. The Indian version is that Pakistani vigilantes, dressed as tribesmen, moved into Kashmir and started commotion. The Pakistanis say the Kashmiri Hindus brought in RSS members and Hindus from the rest of India to tip the Hindu-Muslim balance. Gandhi squarely blamed the Maharajah for mishandling the communal riots that ensued later.

Hari Singh then sought military assistance from India. As per the wish of the majority, as the upheaval was seen solely as Pakistani Army's doing, he signed off the accession of Jammu and Kashmir to India. He abdicated to Bombay after appointing a Governor and a Prime Minister.

The skirmishes between India and Pakistan continued until they engaged in a full-scale war. Even though Kashmir was theirs for control, in his wisdom, Nehru thought that the United Nations should be involved. The UN called for a ceasefire, drew the line of control and divided Kashmir between India and Pakistan in about 2 to 1 ratio.

In 1965, the countries went to war again over Kashmir. This time, Pakistan thought it could stir the sentiments of the Muslims to riot against India. It was called Operation Gibraltar. It again ended in a stalemate after the US and the Soviets appeared as peacemakers, making them sign the Tashkent Declaration.

The fact that Pakistan named the operation Gibraltar is indicative of its vision. As in Islamic history, where the Iberian peninsula was attacked by Muslim invaders from Gibraltar, Pakistanis perceive the whole of Kashmir as legitimately Islamic land that cannot slip away to infidels. That is the bottom line.

Fast forward fifty years later, the country still has not resolved its internal issues. The 1990s saw further deterioration of inter-religious relationships, resulting in massive persecution and exodus of its Hindu population.

From an Indian lens, they see Kashmir as a prodigal child. Even though it is technically Kashmir is part of India, it seems to have special status. It has its own flag. Article 370 was a temporary measure enactment to give autonomy before it got on its feet.

With the passage of time, political wrangling, and internal law manipulation, the article became an entitlement. The ruling class and their lackey seem hellbent on maintaining the status quo, as the BJP saw when it was campaigning to form the Government in 2014.

Modi, could be AI generated!

This film centres around the time when the Government of the day went around trying to repeal the temporary Article 370 to get Kashmir to be under Presidential rule with cloak and dagger method in a cat-and-mouse chase to hoodwink the internal cabal that wants to keep the status quo. The Kashmiri leadership are comfortable with the previous arrangement as it kept them in power and enriched their cronies. 

The film, criticised by many who do not favour the current Government, is said to portray a very right-winged look Hindu look at the whole scenario. It is suggested that the movie is a propaganda piece for the upcoming Indian general election. The film suggests that the Kashmiri leadership is colluding with India's enemy, Pakistan, to uproot the state out of the Union. The battleground is tattered with religious ideology. And money (lots of it) is a lubricant. The ending suggests that things are better in Kashmir after the abrogation. Peace is noticable. Tourism is picking up, and so is hoped, the economy.

The friction has been going on for so long that each person looks at the other as if they are from a different country. This is observed in one of the dialogues, 'It is not about us and them. We are one country!'

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Death can be a satire?

A Case of Exploding Mangoes

Author: Mohammed Hanif

On 17th August 1988, President Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq of Pakistan was killed in an aircraft crash. Perishing together with him on the Hercules C-130 military aircraft were the President’s close assistant Akhtar Abdur Rehman, American diplomat Arnold Lewis Raphel and 27 others.

In the rest of the world, a country owns an army. In Pakistan, however, its Army own the country. In 1976, Prime Minister Bhutto elevated ul-Haq to a full general. One year later, he deposed Bhutto and declared martial law. Bhutto was hanged for treason.

Ul-Haq’s 11-year tenure as the Supremo saw him announce Pakistan as a nuclear nation, aided Afghanistan to fight the Soviets and secured himself as a prominent Islamist leader. In a way, he was instrumental in making Pakistan a theocratic country and the rise of global Islamic terrorism.

The crash was extensively investigated by many quarters, but nothing was conclusive. The possible theories range from aircraft failure, as the C-130 was notoriously famous for faulty equipment, to sabotage by Americans, Soviets, Mossad, the Pakistani Army, and even Bhutto’s dependents.

Mohamad Hanif, the author of this book and the head of BBC Urdu service, was consumed by the crash. The interviews he conducted did not reveal much. The aircraft did carry mangoes. A rope was found among the debris. Someone suggested the possibility of explosives in mango seeds and the usage of poisonous gas to incapacitate the pilots as the craft plunged head down suddenly.

In most countries, too, something so sombre, like the death of a leader, is not sneered upon. This rule may not apply to Pakistan. Because of the restriction of freedom of speech, Pakistanis have volumes of jokes about their leaders. Every other day, even its immediate neighbour finds pleasure in mocking Pakistan. So, it is not surprising to read the humorous narration of the moments before Zia-ul-Haq’s demise in this light-hearted satire.

Even though the exact cause of the crash is not explained and the real perpetrators of the accident are not told, it seems like everyone had a burning desire to see the President die - the Pakistani Army, a Trade Union leader, the curse of the imprisoned blind gang-rape victim or a disgruntled soldier whose father was killed by Zia. A crow, possibly intoxicated by the nectar of the sweet Pakistani mango, may have a hand in it, too. The aircraft also carried such a heavy load of mangoes, so aromatic that it filled the whole vessel that the air conditioning need not be switched on. VX gas filled the machine when it was switched on later, and we know what happened next.

(Dedicated to RK, a Pakistani-Hindu from the Sindh Province, who paints a rather rosy image of his Motherland contrary to the perception of the rest of the world.)

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Race, Religion and Rock N' Roll!

Blinded by the Light (2019)
Director: Gurinder Chadha

Maybe it is the slave mentality at work. The slaves looked up to their masters and wanted to be like them very much. They see them as the proof of success, the pinnacle of achievement, and yearning to walk in their shoes. That is where the buck stops. The slaves chose what was 'good' and what was not acceptable.

Many middle-income Malaysian Indians who were teenagers in the late 70s and early 80s had to endure this, yours truly included. The parents worked hard to provide their offspring what they missed growing up. What they thought they missed most was the ability to acquire education, pass examinations and the remunerations that came with it. They wished to achieve what they did not get, like the opportunity for education, freedom by their standards and academic achievements through their children.

They did not, however, want the Master's idea of independence. Their idea of children is to be seen but not heard. The last thing they wanted was children talking back to their parents. They did not appreciate the parents' shortcomings in parenting to be pinpointed. No matter how high the children flew, they had to display Asian values, filial piety and show unwavering loyalty to the clans till their dying days. 

One peculiar thing about my mother is she was not too keen on us, the children, listening to Western songs. They wanted us to be conversant and proficient in English, but Tamil songs on RTM Red Network were the only songs blaring over the family radio. When my parents were away on errands, we heard English songs clandestinely over Radio RAAF and the RTM Blue Network. She feared we would be wild kids, showing disrespect and forgetting our roots. That was what she thought of the Masters - only substance but no soul. She wanted us to learn the things that would pull us out of the clutches of poverty but keep the Indian values.

Fast forward to the 21st century. A few of the family members have uprooted themselves from this country, seeking greener pastures in the land of the Masters. In their minds, their children would be more assured of a comfortable lie ahead.

With the children now at rebellious ages, these parents face the same dilemma as my parents. Like my parents, they wanted their kids to absorb what they viewed as 'good' qualities and reject the 'bad'. Of course, life is never so easy.

Boy George

That is what Malik, a Pakistani immigrant to the UK, had to encounter bringing up his children in Luton in the 1980s. On one end is Malik, who uprooted his life for a better life for his family. He has big plans for his family, things he never had in Pakistan. On the other hand, he wished his host country could be more cordial with their arrival. It was the 80s at the heights of unemployment and Thatcherism. Malik's son, Javed, has a mind of his own. He wants to experience life, be a writer, enjoy music, and not follow the uninspiring path that a typical Pakistani teenager is made to follow. Somewhere along the way, Javed is introduced to Bruce Springsteen's music. It just blew his mind. He finally found someone who reads his mind.

The rest of the movie is a musical galore for teenagers of the 80s who grew up with liberal doses of synthesisers-filled Brit new-wave music. It is a long trip down memory lane with the likes of 'Pet Shop Boys', 'A-ha' and an overdose of Bruce Springsteen. Sadly, I never grew up appreciating his type of shouting melody. It was a time when girls dressed up like Boy George with pleated hair, thick make-up and chequered dress, and Boy George was not a boy. But nobody made a fuss about it.

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Beyond doing the right things!

I'll meet you there (2021)
Story, Direction: Iram Parveen Bilal

The movie's title has its origin from one of Rumi's sayings. Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. 

It sounds about right. It is easy for a third person to look at our every action and pass judgement, just as easy for us to judge others. There must be a justification for everyone's actions. He must have given a lot of thought before embarking on its execution. If the measures are just by their intentions, pure at heart and are sure to accept the consequences, who are we to pass comments?

This movie created a buzz on my antenna when it was reported to be banned in Pakistan. Its Central Board of Film Censors (CBFC) found the film unsuitable for public exhibition as it did not reflect true Pakistani culture, portrayed a negative image of Muslims, and was against Pakistan's social and cultural values.

All the film did was depict brown people and Muslims in a non-stereotypical fashion, often not shown in Hollywood and Tinseltown. It narrates the tale of an American-Pakistani police officer, Majeed, in Chicago. He has a heavy cloud hanging over him. His wife, a Kathak dancer, had to give up her passion (and her life) due to pressures from her father in law. Now he leads a quiet life with his daughter, Dua, a college-going student. Like her mother, she is passionate about dancing, especially Kathak, a traditional Indian dance. Dua is nicely snuggled into the American way of carefree life until her grandfather, i.e. Majeed's father, arrives unannounced at their doorstep after 12 long years. 

That is when Dua and Majeed's lives hit stormy waters.

Dua's unrestricted American lifestyle is scorned upon. Her involvement in an unIslamic artform is criticised, and Dua is pushed to stick to tenets of the religion. Meanwhile, Majeed is compelled to investigate the local mosque for possible funding of terrorist activities. During an FBI raid in that Majeed acted as an informant, his father was apprehended.

In essence, the movie deals with how members of three generations keep religion in their daily lives. With the challenge of exposure to newer communities and the demand of different environments, the newer generation amalgamates religion into their lives as and how they feel appropriate. Pressures from the elders and to need to conform to society put them in a difficult place.

An entertaining watch.

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A coward dies a thousand times, a valiant but once!

The Ghazi Attack (Hindi; 2017)

Director, Screenplay: Sankalp Reddy

The diesel-powered Pakistani submarine, PNS Ghazi, started life in the USA as USS Diablo, serving the US Navy between 1945 and 1964. It was decommissioned and downgraded in 1964. It was then loaned to Pakistan to beef up their defence as they were planning to start another conflict with their neighbour in 1965. In other words, it was a watered-down unmodernised submarine, having lost much of its killing prowess when Pakistan acquired it. Nevertheless, it was the first submarine in South Asia, and Pakistan was its proud owner. India received its first submarine, INS Kalvari, in 1967, a Soviet-made diesel one. The day Kalvari was acquired is called 'Submarine Day' - December 8.

1n 1965, as the Pakistani and Indian armies were concentrating on Kashmir, the Pakistani Navy decided to carry out a 'nuisance raid' on Dwarka, seeking to destroy radar installations and Indian vessels using its submarine PNS Ghazi. What actually was the outcome depends on whose version you hear. Whilst the Pakistanis boast of colossal damage to the Indian side, the Indian claimed to have lost only a single casualty, a cow. The shells missed their intended target. Probably reeling from their pre-independence stance of non-violence, the Indians decided not to retaliate.

Unrest started when East Pakistani political parties won the 1970 general elections. The Urdu-speaking West Pakistanis thought they were too high and mighty to be ruled by the dark-skinned Bengalis. Pakistani military marched into Dhaka to systematically suppress dissidence via Operation Searchlight. What followed can be equated to genocide.

PNS Ghazi

The West Pakistanis had to send supplies to their army in Dhaka. Unfortunately, sending supplies via land proved impossible as it involved cutting through India. The only feasible way to do that was by sea. Unfortunately for them, India had the East Naval Command, via its ports of Madras and Vaisakapattinam, controlled the Bay of Bengal and nicely blockaded entry to East Pakistan ports. They decided to attack and destroy India's modern aircraft carrier, INS Vikrant. Their other plan was to set mines in Visakhapatnam port. PNS Ghazi left Karachi on November 14 1971, for this mission. Five days, she was spotted around Sri Lanka was the Indian Navy was alerted. Unbeknownst to the Pakistani Navy, INS Vikrant had been sent off to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. In its place, an ageing WW2 vessel, INS Rajput, was masquerading.

The confusing radio signals from INS Rajput made Ghazi believe that INS Vikrant was indeed at Visakhapatnam. By November 27, Ghazi was planting underwater mines near the port. On December 4, a loud explosion was heard off the coast. A few days later, local fishermen found floating debris and remains of the submarine and its crew.

What followed afterwards was quite confusing. The Pakistanis alleged that they had lost communication with Ghazi after it entered the Bay of Bengal. They later said that Ghazi had accidentally entered its own minefield and had an accident. The Indian Navy, on the other hand, had asserted that Rajput had engaged two depth charges upon noticing water disturbances of the sudden plunging of the submarine. In essence, the Indian Navy said that it torpedoed Ghazi or at least ignited the mines causing Ghazi to hit the seabed!

What actually happened is anybody's guess. The Pakistani do not mind being labelled incompetent when they accidentally hit the mines they had laid out for the Indians. As long as they were not killed by their nemesis. The Indians, on their side, had destroyed all logs on the sinking of Ghazi.

Chief of Staff of the Indian Army General Jagjit Singh
Aurora and Lt. General AAK Niazi of the Pakistani
Army signed the papers on December 16, 1971, that
ended the war between the two countries and led to the
creation of Bangladesh.

Lately, somebody proposed the idea of a Russian submarine secretly patrolling the Indian waters as part of an Indo-Russian protection pact. The gunning down of Ghazi must have been by them. The Pakistanis think it is more honourable to be killed by a Caucasian power than to die in the hands of his brown brother!

With so many uncertainties surrounding the sinking of Ghazi, the filmmakers took the liberty, with much cinematic licence, to tell their version of what could have happened, with much drama and characters who carry their baggage to war. Instead of an aircraft carrier, the filmmakers decided to make it a one-on-one full-length feature film of underwater warfare, showcasing a clash of submarines between two nations. It is probably the first of such films coming out of India.

A good movie that helps to form the basis to read into the dealings surrounding the 1971 Indo-Pak war and Bangladeshi war of Independence.

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