Sunanda K Datta-Ray: Divisive Indians

WHERE MONEY TALKS

The latest Ayodhya outrage "" the last was on December 6, 1992 "" suggests a parallel with the other deadly threat supposedly gnawing at India's entrails "" Naxalism.

Even if Ayodhya provokes no violent retaliation, it is bound to give fresh impetus to the search for fifth columnists. Since the attack was on Hindu property claimed by Muslims, the popular perception of the identity of the attackers isn't difficult to guess.

Naxalites might be less easy to spot. But thanks to Comrade Prachanda, we now have an identitikit for them too.

The only evidence of Nepalese Maoist complicity in the raid in Bihar's Champaran district, for instance, seems to have been a policeman's claim of seeing "Nepali looking women with Mongoloid features."

How, I wonder, would India's ethnic Nepalese respond to a comment that not only reeks of Aryavrata superiority but also amounts to a rejection of other cultural groups? Would Darjeeling feel justified in seeking to go its own "Mongoloid" way?

Perhaps stereotypes are inevitable in our demographic diversity. But they are also highly dangerous. As it happens, some Bengalis, especially from East Bengal, can also look extraordinarily Mongolian.

So much so that the late Subimal Dutt of the ICS and a former foreign secretary (with roots in Chittagong) was more than once mistaken for Japanese.

But it's the northeast that causes worry. In Aizawl last year, my taxi driver got out at a security barrier and explained that his passenger was a visitor from Calcutta. As the barrier was lifted for us, the driver muttered, "They'll let you through if you're an outsider, but if you're a local they'll give you a thappar!"

That thought must also have passed through Hokishe Sema's mind when the Taj Hotel reception in Bombay demanded his passport.

Then chief minister of Nagaland, the modest Hokishe was travelling privately. "We have to keep explaining to Indians that we are also Indian" was his quiet reflection, not untinged with bitterness.

On another occasion, a Central government official in Bangalore mistook a Mizo student who had called on him for an inmate of one of the nearby Tibetan settlements.

Of course, it can cut both ways. Deciding to try out one of Calcutta's smart new Thai restaurants, we were much taken by the petite "Mongoloid" beauty in brocade who received us.

But I drew a blank trying to engage her about Chiengmai and Phuket. What part of Thailand was she from then? She wasn't Thai at all, she was Naga.

"The entertainment industry exploits us" my young half-Naga grand nephew grumbled when I told him. "Anyone with Mongolian features is passed off as south-east Asian!"

Nepalese Naxalites "" call them Maoists if you will "" are a relatively new phenomenon. When the revolt exploded in Naxalbari, activists were adivasis like Jangal Santhal, the muscular tea garden labour organiser.

Later, when they began to talk of Naxalite contamination in Bihar, I made a trip to the affected districts and found something far more frightening than ideology.

It was poverty. The grinding poverty of the Musahar community who were starving because drought had killed even the field mice they eat.

Musahar landless labourers around Arrah had demanded full meals and the minimum legal wage from the landlords they worked for.

The latter, being what in Bihar is called "forward caste", thought this gross impertinence. What was the world coming to if field hands were not grateful for an occasional fistful of chattu? They went to their caste brethren in the police who talked the matter over with the district officials.

Everyone agreed that no illiterate impoverished Musahar would have dared to ask for more if he hadn't been indoctrinated. It had to be the Naxalites.

No political literature was ever found in those mean but immaculately clean huts. There was no record of comings and goings, of strangers visiting or clandestine meetings and collections.

Not a single weapon, not even a dao, was unearthed. No whiff of revolution. But, yes, large earthern jars over holes in the mud-baked floors of suggested subterranean passages.

Policemen and landlords spoke darkly of hiding places for arms caches and escape routes. The holes could also have been underground granaries.

Alarm spread. Popular lore transformed starving Musahars into ferocious rebels. Now, we are told, the menace extends to 160 districts in 12 states and is poised to infect more.

The sinister aim is to carve a "compact revolutionary zone" all the way from Nepal to Andhra Pradesh. Perhaps it will extend to Kanyakumari and try to link up with the Tamil Tigers who have been fifth columnists ever since Rajiv Gandhi was murdered.

Tailpiece: Another peril was brought to my notice the other day when moderating a discussion to release Arun Shourie's enigmatically titled apocalyptic book, Will the Iron Fence Save a Tree Hollowed by Termites? His tree is, of course, India; the iron fence is the military; and all the fifth columnists bent on destroying India are termites.

Military moustache bristling, a Sikh officer rose from the front row of the hall to make a statement while apparently asking a question. "Are the media the termites?" he thundered, addressing Shourie but staring balefully at me. "Are the media the termites destroying India?"

Yet another enemy within.