Ghost of partition still traumatises India.. FT today..
By Edna Fernandes
Published: May 21 2002 18:00 | Last Updated: May 21 2002 18:00
A few kilometres from the ashram where Mahatma Gandhi once prayed for Hindu-Muslim unity stands an open-air maternity ward. Tiny pink wicker cots rock newborns under the watchful gaze of their mothers.
Born in the midst of India's worst communal violence in a decade, the babies are the youngest and most innocent victims of 12 weeks of religious violence in the Indian state of Gujarat.
The maternity ward is a symbol of how life goes on inside the vast refugee camp at Arun Chowk Bapunagar - one of many makeshift camps which have sprung up in the state's once-buzzing commercial capital, Ahmedabad.
It is also a painful reminder of how religious hatred, a historical hangover from India's partition in 1947, continues to traumatise the country today.
The trauma of partition also lies at the heart of the current tension between India and Pakistan, which threatens to erupt into war over what India says is Pakistan's sponsorship of terrorism in the disputed border state of Jammu and Kashmir - a Muslim majority state which became part of India more than 50 years ago, instead of the Islamic nation of Pakistan.
Partition triggered 1m deaths after violence raged between the Hindu majority and Muslim minority. Today, western diplomats warn privately that Gujarat has raised the spectre of partition once again.
The timing of the Gujarat crisis and the stand-off between India and Pakistan could not be worse. "It's a dangerous time for India. It faces internal and external security threats at the same time," warned one political commentator.
But the government's focus has switched to the external threat. Yesterday, thousands of troops were redeployed from Gujarat's streets to the border as both sides braced for war. At the same time, international calls for rehabilitation have not been heeded: conditions in the camps remain poor even for heavily pregnant mothers-to-be at Arun Chowk Bapunagar.
Sixty pregnant women wait to give birth as Red Cross midwives check over the cots and prepare feeds. All that shelters the ward from the blazing 47 degree celsius temperatures are thin cotton sheets tied to poles to provide tent-like cover.
As well as births, marriages have also taken place during the camp's two-and-a-half-month life. Engaged couples tired of waiting for peace have married inside the camp, though there is little privacy for the shy newly-weds.
As sporadic violence continues, interspersed with an uneasy calm, few of the 120,000 Muslim refugees are prepared to leave. As a result, the camps have taken on the permanency of home - making Gujarat a crisis that will not go away.
Generations of the same family huddle together cross-legged on the bare floor. Some children play in groups as adults chew and spit beetlenut paan into the red dust. There are no chairs, beds or mattresses to rest on.
Disease is common, with only one toilet for every 300 people. Food provided by the state is often rotten or infested with insects.
A book of photocopied compensation cheques from the state makes for sober reading. Some who lost everything have received payouts of as little as 1,500 rupees (about $30) to rebuild their lives. The refugees see it as further evidence of victimisation by the state, which has been accused by foreign diplomats and human rights groups of complicity in a "purge" of Muslims.
The mood among the "inmates", as the refugees are known, is of grim resignation. Their message is clear: they do not trust their Hindu neighbours; they do not trust the police or the state government. They also believe Muslims were deliberately targeted by the state.
A tearful Munir Bhai, a 50-year-old ice-vendor who lost his wife and two daughters, tried to return home recently only to be told to renounce his religion. "They told us to convert to Hinduism if we wanted to stay. I was born here. My grandfather was born here. Yet we're told to leave."
Another recurring theme in the camps was how police collaborated with the Hindu mobs. Forty-eight-year-old peddler Fateh Mohammed, his head swathed in bloody bandages, said he was beaten with iron pipes by a Hindu gang when he tried to go home two weeks ago.
"I told them the police are coming. They said: 'The police are ours. They'll do nothing for you'."
As well as the human cost, Gujarat has paid a heavy economic price.
Muslim businessmen say the riots showed planned targeting of their their economy. "Shops, restaurants and hotels which were even 10-per cent owned by Muslims were targeted. Even those with Hindu names," said Pahla Sureshwala, a local stockbroker. "These people did their homework."
In downtown Ahmedabad, many Muslim businesses remain shuttered. Blackened, burnt out hotels and shops owned by Muslims scar the city. The wider Gujarati economy, based on textiles, chemicals and financial services, has been hit by curfews and violence.
Hotel chains usually thronging with businessmen are empty. Joseph D'Couto, general manager of the Holiday Inn, has had to keep on a full staff despite the lack of business. During the worst trouble, every guest venturing out was escorted by minders.
"You don't want to be in my position. A boss smiling, telling everyone it will be OK against this grim backdrop of trauma, fear and violence," Mr D'Couto said. |
