SACW | Feb 3-4, 2007

Harsh Kapoor aiindex at mnet.fr
Sat Feb 3 19:26:42 CST 2007


South Asia Citizens Wire  | February 3-4, 2007 | Dispatch No. 2357 - Year 8

[1]  What to do about Burma (Thant Myint-U)
[2]  India: Modi, Mody & Co (Rajdeep Sardesai)
[3]  India: Who Will Decide Whether Gujaratis Want to See Parzania or Not? 
[4]  India: The Shiv Sena led coalition sweeps the polls in Bombay - 2 edits
[5]  India: Spreading communal violence
     (i) Sangh Parivar Again Incites Communal Violence (G N Nagaraj)
    (ii) Riots as an alibi for gangsterism - 
Moditva in east UP (Edit, Economic Times)
[6] Publication Announcement:
  BURMA SPECIAL - Himal South Asian - February 2007

____


[1]

London Review of Books
Vol. 29 No. 3 dated 8 February 2007

WHAT TO DO ABOUT BURMA

by Thant Myint-U

There is an enduring myth that in 1948, when it 
achieved independence from Britain, Burma was a 
rich country with every reason to expect a bright 
future and that the policies and practices of the 
military government are alone to blame for 
today's miseries. It is beyond dispute that many 
of these policies and practices have been 
disastrous. But there is a deeper history of 
misfortune which needs to be understood.

At independence, Burma was a country devastated 
by war, with a collapsed economy and a peculiarly 
debilitating colonial legacy dating back to 1885, 
when Lord Randolph Churchill, the secretary of 
state for India, dispatched an expeditionary 
force to sort out the 'Burma problem' of the day.

When the Burma Expeditionary Force seized 
Mandalay, British policy-makers decided not only 
to dethrone the king, Thibaw, but to abolish the 
monarchy altogether. The nobility was soon 
disbanded too and families who had held sway over 
their villages for centuries were fatally 
undermined. The old social order collapsed during 
the 'pacification' campaign of the late 1880s, 
when tens of thousands of British and Indian 
troops attempted to quell unexpectedly harsh 
guerrilla resistance, and with this collapse came 
the disappearance of an ancient tradition of 
Buddhist and secular scholarship. This was 
followed by a period of peace and considerable 
prosperity, which lasted from the early 1890s to 
the late 1920s. There were new connections - 
intellectual as well as commercial - to England, 
India and elsewhere, and a generation of 
well-educated men and women hoped to be part of a 
more progressive world. But the foundations of 
future problems were being laid.

There was, for example, a massive influx of 
immigrants from other parts of British India. In 
some years, more than two million Indians arrived 
in Burma, mostly to work, and though many 
eventually left, enough stayed for the Indian 
portion of the population to grow rapidly. In the 
1920s and 1930s, more than two-thirds of the 
inhabitants of Rangoon were ethnic Indians. 
Indians became the country's wealthiest 
businessmen, doctors and lawyers, as well as its 
shopkeepers, industrial workers and labourers. 
Their presence was, in many ways, a huge 
advantage to the country, but any sudden, 
large-scale immigration is bound to create 
problems, and this one contributed to the growth 
of a particularly sour and defensive Burmese 
nationalism.

Equally damaging was London's long indifference 
to Burmese concerns and sensitivities, its 
treatment of Burma as just one more province of 
India. Ethnic minorities - the Karen and the 
Kachin, for example - were brought into the 
Indian army and military police, but the ethnic 
Burmese (two-thirds of the population) were 
classed as a 'non-martial race', which angered a 
people brought up on stories of ancient military 
prowess. In the 1920s, young radicals looked to 
the IRA for inspiration; in the 1930s, to 
Stalin's Russia. Some also looked to Japan.

The Japanese invasion of 1941-42 turned Burma 
into a giant battlefield, drawing in hundreds of 
thousands of Allied soldiers, and igniting an 
ethnic conflict, between the Burmese and the 
Karen, which continues to this day. Over the 
course of the war, dozens of cities and towns 
were obliterated; bridges and railway lines, 
dockyards and ports, oilfields and refineries 
were blown up; and the civil administration 
collapsed everywhere. A small group of Burmese 
student politicians, led by the charismatic Aung 
San (the father of Aung San Suu Kyi), escaped 
from the country, received military training from 
the Japanese, and then reappeared alongside the 
invaders as the Burma Independence Army. They 
helped to form a government of collaborators, 
before tiring of the Japanese and eventually 
turning against them in March 1945, just in time 
to style themselves as an Allied force. Student 
radicals had turned into partisans, and in 1945 
the country was awash with weapons.

London meanwhile needed a Burma policy. During 
their wartime exile in Simla, Reginald 
Dorman-Smith, the governor before the British 
retreat in 1942, and his colleagues drew up what 
became a White Paper for the reconstruction of 
the Burmese economy and a gradual transition to 
home rule. A representative executive council, 
including all the political parties, would advise 
the governor before fresh elections could be 
held. Ethnic minorities in the highlands would be 
fully consulted on their place in an independent 
Burma. But Aung San's group, now fashionably 
called the Anti-Fascist People's Freedom League, 
demanded to be recognised immediately as a 
provisional government. The 31-year-old Aung San 
was already wildly popular and his speeches were 
attracting huge crowds. But for London, in late 
1945, Burma was low down on any list of 
priorities.

A showdown took place, between Dorman-Smith, 
increasingly aware of the need to placate Aung 
San but charged by Whitehall with implementing 
his dated White Paper, and Aung San himself, 
presiding precariously over a coalition of 
Communists and socialists, militia leaders and 
former Japanese collaborators, all now dreaming 
their different dreams of the Burma to come.

In August 1945, Aung San had flown to Kandy to 
meet with Mountbatten, then supreme allied 
commander for South-East Asia. What emerged from 
their discussions was a new Burma army, with half 
its battalions drawn from the old British-trained 
Burma Army, mainly Karen and Kachin soldiers from 
the highlands, and half from Aung San's 
Japanese-trained Burma Independence Army, almost 
all of whose officers were die-hard Burmese 
nationalists. Throughout the colonial period, the 
highlands had been ruled with a light hand and 
separately from 'Burma proper'. Many of the Karen 
and Kachin had converted to Christianity and 
there was considerable distrust between the two 
halves of this new army. It was a recipe for 
disaster.

In the Burmese version, the story of 1946 is the 
story of Aung San and his colleagues refusing to 
compromise, heroically leading 'the people' and 
facing down the British Empire. In fact, in 1946, 
Burma was at best a minor irritant given the 
enormous challenges Britain faced at home, as 
well as in Europe, Palestine and India. Allied 
forces in Burma had been rapidly scaled down and 
Nehru made it clear that Indian troops would not 
be on hand to quell a nationalist revolt. Aung 
San threatened violence, then pulled back from 
the brink to demonstrate who was now in charge.

Had Britain desperately wanted to remain in 
Burma, it would have been able to deal with Aung 
San, but with India on the eve of independence, 
the Burmese economy a shambles and the country no 
longer of any strategic importance, Burma just 
wasn't worth the effort. The Labour government 
decided to give it up. The White Paper was 
revoked; Dorman-Smith was replaced by Hubert 
Rance. Aung San then called a general strike: 
tens of thousands took to the streets. Rance 
quickly entered into negotiations with Aung San, 
who was invited to London. And in London, in 
January 1947, Britain agreed essentially to hand 
over power to Aung San and his League. 
Independence would come within a year. In the 
interim, he would form a cabinet and effectively 
be treated as a dominion prime minister.

What happened next is seen by the Burmese as the 
central tragedy of their modern history. Aung 
San, a man with a strange and magnetic 
personality, had managed to gather together in 
his cabinet many of the country's most able 
politicians, including several ethnic minority 
leaders. But on the morning of 19 July 1947, as 
the cabinet was meeting in downtown Rangoon, 
armed men in uniform burst through the wooden 
doors and killed nearly all its members, 
including Aung San. It still isn't clear 
precisely who was responsible; at least some 
British officials were most probably involved, 
though (contrary to Burmese conspiracy theories) 
there is little to suggest any involvement by the 
British government. For a politically divided 
country ravaged by war the loss of these men was 
incalculable.

The coalition that Aung San had put together 
disintegrated. The Communists, under their leader 
Than Tun, condemned the 'sham' independence from 
Britain, called for a people's revolution, and 
prepared for an armed insurrection. Other groups 
- among them, the Islamic Mujahidin in Arakan 
(along the Bengal border) and the 'White Flag' 
Communist guerrillas of Thakin Soe - were already 
in revolt. Even more uncertain was the loyalty of 
Aung San's own paramilitary organisation, the 
huge People's Volunteer Organisation or PVO: 
demobbed partisans and newer recruits, young men 
who had grown up in wartime and could imagine 
nothing more exciting than the battles they hoped 
were coming. Nervously watching from the 
sidelines were the ethnic minorities, especially 
the Karen, who had seen the rise of a militant 
ethnic Burmese nationalism and had suffered 
terribly at the hands of the Burma Independence 
Army in the early days of the war.

And so when the last of the Yorkshire Light 
Infantry sailed away from the docks at Rangoon, 
Burma was far from being on the road to a happy 
future. Within weeks, Than Tun's Communists had 
attacked government posts up and down the 
Irrawaddy valley and were soon joined by the PVO. 
The army began to fall apart, some ethnic Burmese 
units joining the growing insurrection. In late 
1948, the Karen battalions, British-trained and 
representing more than a third of the armed 
forces, also peeled away. Cities and towns 
throughout the lowlands fell to one rebel faction 
or another, or to bandit gangs and local militia. 
Mandalay was jointly held by the Communists and 
the Karen. By February 1949, the army was down to 
a couple of thousand men, barely holding on to 
the outskirts of Rangoon and facing widespread 
insurgency. At its core was the Fourth Burma 
Rifles, trained by the Japanese and led by 
General Ne Win, a deputy of Aung San and now the 
commander-in-chief of the armed forces.

When Aung San was killed, the governor selected 
his close colleague U Nu to take his place. U Nu 
was very different from Aung San, less the 
enigmatic tough guy and more the eccentric, the 
charmer, the consummate politician - he went on 
to win three general elections for his party. He 
was also a committed democrat. In the darkest 
days of the civil war, it was U Nu who rallied 
the government side, flying around the country in 
a seaplane, and setting out his vision of a 
progressive and internationally-minded Burma. His 
best friend and confidant, especially on matters 
of foreign policy, was my grandfather, U Thant, 
who would later become Burma's ambassador to the 
UN and then its third secretary-general. They had 
both been uneasy with Burmese nationalism's 
flirtations with Fascism and were also resolutely 
opposed to Communism.

In the meantime General Ne Win and his 
Japanese-trained officers were doing the actual 
fighting in the countryside. And it wasn't easy. 
Barely had Ne Win's small army managed to push 
back the Communists and the Karen when an 
entirely new enemy emerged in the eastern Shan 
hills. In 1949, with the fall of Peking and the 
retreat of Chinese Nationalist forces to Taiwan, 
a small remnant of Nationalists had retreated 
southwestward into Burma. The United States began 
arming and supplying them. The Burmese protested 
vigorously against this at the UN but in vain. 
The lesson for Ne Win was clear: Burma couldn't 
rely on the UN or international declarations of 
friendship; it had instead to build up a 
professional military machine, able to crush the 
insurgencies but also to defend itself against 
all its enemies.

As the insurgents were pushed back, the army 
began taking over administrative tasks, largely 
because the civil structures were so fragile and 
so compromised by political rivalries. The 
military fretted about political interference in 
their affairs, and believed that party politics - 
often corrupt and violent - were too messy to 
meet Burma's needs. In the early morning of 2 
March 1962, tanks and mechanised units loyal to 
Ne Win rolled into Rangoon, surrounding 
Government House and the Secretariat, arrested U 
Nu and all the other senior political figures, 
and installed the military dictatorship that 
survives to this day.

An army coup in East Asia in the early 1960s was 
no big deal. Pakistan, Thailand, South Korea, 
Indonesia were or would soon be military 
dictatorships. But Ne Win and his Revolutionary 
Council made disastrous policy decisions, which 
even now lie at the heart of many of Burma's 
problems. The first was to nationalise all major 
industries, including banking and international 
trade, even though the state lacked the capacity 
to run them. The second was to expel 
approximately 400,000 ethnic Indians, including 
many whose families had lived in Burma for 
generations. The third was to undermine and 
eventually dismantle civilian institutions. The 
parliament was done away with immediately, and 
over the next decade, the courts, the police, the 
universities, the civil service and the old 
British-era system of district administration 
were critically weakened or abolished as army 
officers took over. The fourth wrong decision was 
to seek a military rather than a political 
solution to the country's long-running civil war. 
At first there were talks with the rebels but 
they soon collapsed and the fighting became more 
brutal still. Fifth and most important was Ne 
Win's decision to isolate Burma from the rest of 
the world.

Exactly why he did this is difficult to explain. 
A failed university student and one time post 
office clerk, Ne Win quickly came to dominate the 
armed forces after Aung San's death. U Nu trusted 
him. He had a reputation as a man about town, an 
avid golfer, often to be seen at the race track 
or the better diplomatic parties. Even after his 
coup he continued to travel the world, shopping 
in London and for a while seeing a psychiatrist 
in Vienna. But he seems to have absorbed the 
colonial prejudice that the Burmese were, yes, 
nice people, talented in their own way, but unfit 
for self-rule, a people not quite ready for the 
responsibilities of government and needing 
direction and an iron hand. The Burmese must 
learn to do things for themselves, the general 
often said.

There were other, perhaps higher motives for his 
actions. In the early 1960s the Vietnam War was 
underway and China's Cultural Revolution was 
imminent. It was easy to see how Burma might be 
drawn into a superpower conflict. Hiding from the 
outside world would provide a degree of 
protection. But it was a catastrophic policy even 
so. Aid programmes were terminated and all inward 
investment was banned. Burmese were very rarely 
allowed out and foreigners were not allowed in, 
even as tourists. The economy creaked to a 
standstill. There were shortages of every kind. 
Very little outside information filtered in. 
Rangoon turned into a big sprawling village, and 
the country settled in for a long, nightmarish 
sleep.

By the mid-1980s, few people were happy. Ne Win 
was approaching eighty and increasingly 
eccentric. Always a keen numerologist, he one day 
changed all currency notes to denominations 
divisible by nine (9, 90, 180). Everyone began to 
feel that something had to change. Even the army 
was tired of its never ending battles in the 
distant hills and looked enviously at its peers 
in South Korea, Thailand and Indonesia, who were 
getting rich in business. In 1988, when tens of 
thousands of people took to the streets and then 
rallied behind Aung San Suu Kyi, there was no one 
to defend the status quo. But how exactly would 
the country change? Who would be in charge? And 
how could the outside world best help?

For the army, the uprising of 1988 was a shock. 
The government came close to being toppled and 
the strength of popular feeling was plain to see. 
Hundreds of people in Rangoon were killed as the 
government crushed the protests. But then there 
seemed to be some desire for compromise. People 
were allowed to form political parties, Aung San 
Suu Kyi and other politicians were (for a while) 
permitted to campaign, and elections were held in 
1990. But when the election returned a landslide 
for Aung San Suu Kyi's National League for 
Democracy (rather than the mixed parliament the 
army was possibly hoping for), and when some in 
the NLD began to talk about 'Nuremberg-style' 
trials for senior officers, the army went back on 
its promises.

Meanwhile, a completely new development - almost 
entirely unreported in the West - was 
transforming the political landscape of the 
country. In the summer of 1989, the Burma 
Communist Party, the government's chief 
battlefield opponent for forty years, with an 
army of more than twenty thousand well-trained 
and well-armed troops, collapsed after a mutiny. 
In the 1960s, the government had come close to 
defeating it, only to see it re-emerge with the 
active support of Communist China. By 1970, it 
controlled a huge swathe of territory in the Shan 
hills. But in 1989 its army splintered into 
several ethnic-based militias. The government, 
reversing its decades-long policy of seeking only 
a military solution to the civil war, entered 
into talks with these successor militias and all 
sides agreed to a ceasefire. The militias would 
be allowed to keep their arms and their 
territory, pending a final settlement. (Many 
turned to trading in narcotics.) Government 
forces were then able to pressurise or persuade 
nearly all the remaining ethnic insurgencies to 
stop fighting. By the mid-1990s, only the Karen 
National Union held out, but it came under fierce 
attack and lost all its remaining bases near the 
Thai border. For the first time in half a 
century, the guns were almost silent. There was 
an opportunity finally to end Burma's civil war, 
the longest-running armed conflict in the world.

For many in the West, the Burmese morality play 
of the past fifteen years has pitted Aung San Suu 
Kyi and her supporters against the army 
leadership and its Orwellian-sounding State Peace 
and Development Council. One side stands for 
democracy and human rights, the other locks up 
opponents and allows very little political 
freedom. It's easy to take sides, easier still to 
support sanctions or boycotts and be happy that 
national governments and the UN should 
continually be expressing concern. But it's 
important to see that at least three different 
challenges currently face Burma: the need to find 
a just and sustainable end to the armed conflict; 
the need to help the country undo decades of 
economic mismanagement and develop its economy; 
and the need to begin a transition to democratic 
rule.

Burma's history makes all these challenges 
exceedingly difficult. With the collapse of royal 
institutions in 1885 and the subsequent failure 
of colonial institutions to take root, the army 
is, for better or worse, the only effective 
national institution left. It's no surprise that 
the leading officials of the NLD (other than Aung 
San Suu Kyi) are all retired army officers. A 
transition to democracy means not just removing 
the army from government, it means building up 
the other institutions that would make a civilian 
administration possible. Equally important is the 
country's history of militant ethnicity, the 
failure of successive political elites to 
understand that they live in a multicultural 
country and need to develop a more inclusive 
national identity. We tend to see Burma as a 
Velvet Revolution gone wrong, when in fact it is 
an impoverished war-torn society of 55 million 
people, half of them under the age of 18, with 
armed forces of more than 400,000 men (and over a 
dozen insurgent armies) who know only the 
language of warfare.

Some people still argue that trade and investment 
sanctions against the Burmese government are the 
only way to push the army leadership into talking 
with Aung San Suu Kyi. But the sanctions argument 
is deeply flawed. First, it assumes a regime very 
different from the one that actually exists. That 
is, it assumes a government that is committed to 
rejoining the world economy, that sees clearly 
the benefits of trade and investment or is in 
some way sensitive to the welfare of ordinary 
people. True, there are some in the army who like 
the idea of trade and investment and care about 
popular welfare, and for them sanctions might 
constitute a sort of pressure. But many in the 
military don't care. For them, national security, 
as they see it, is everything. Compromise might 
be possible on other issues, but if the choice is 
between political suicide and interacting with an 
outside world they fundamentally distrust, then 
there is no debate. Isolation is their default 
condition: not ideal, but comfortable all the 
same.

Second, sanctions really only mean Western 
sanctions. In the years since 1988, Burmese trade 
with China and several other neighbouring 
countries has grown considerably, and tens of 
billions of dollars' worth of natural gas have 
been discovered offshore. To believe that China 
would impose sanctions and cut off their access 
to Burma's energy supplies in order to push the 
country towards democracy is naive. Sanctions 
going beyond those already in place would mean in 
effect increased influence for China; not 
something likely to lead to democratic change.

Third, imagine for a moment that somehow, 
miraculously, extremely tight sanctions were 
possible - involving China, India and Thailand - 
and that these brought the government to its 
knees, without a dollar or renminbi left to pay 
for vital imports. While there is a possibility 
that reasonable heads would prevail, there is 
also a very good chance that the army leadership 
would stay in their Führerbunker until the bitter 
end, as the country collapsed into anarchy around 
them. Many of those who support sanctions hope 
that greater outside pressure would lead to 
disagreements within the army. Nothing could be 
more dangerous: the country could easily fall 
apart into dozens of competing military factions, 
insurgent armies and drug warlord militias. If 
that happened, all the troops in Iraq and 
Afghanistan wouldn't be enough to put Burma back 
together; it would be a disaster for Asia.

The problem with sanctions is best illustrated by 
the opportunity that was lost in the early 1990s, 
when a new generation of generals, eager for 
change, launched a series of reforms and opened 
up the economy to the outside world. Hundreds of 
foreign companies set up shop. Rangoon was 
transformed, with new hotels, shopping centres 
and official buildings, traffic jams on 
previously empty roads, and the first real influx 
of tourists in years. Satellite dishes went up 
everywhere. But thanks to boycotts and then, in 
the later 1990s, more formal sanctions (as well 
as continued government mismanagement of the 
economy), Western firms began to pull out, 
leaving Burma in limbo: with more than enough 
regional trade to stay afloat, but nothing like 
the momentum to begin changing society. If, over 
the last fifteen years, there had been aid and 
investment (as there has been in Vietnam), rather 
than a half-hearted 'regime-change' strategy from 
the West, there could have been real economic 
growth and social change. The isolation on which 
the regime depends would have diminished and it 
would have become increasingly clear to the 
officer corps that proper government is too 
complex for the army to manage. And this in turn 
would have created a better situation for Burma's 
democrats and more leverage for Western 
governments. As it is, Western leverage is close 
to zero. Focusing on political change at the top 
is not the answer.

This is not to say that Burma shouldn't be a 
democracy, or that the Western supporters of 
democracy and human rights in Burma should give 
up. Far from it. Liberal democracy is the only 
sustainable form of government for a country as 
culturally and ethnically diverse as Burma, but 
we need to start from the way things are. Per 
capita aid to Burma is less than a tenth of per 
capita aid to Vietnam and Cambodia: this should 
not be acceptable. Serious diplomacy that 
includes both the Burmese government and its 
neighbours should have priority over a new round 
of condemnation.

Thant Myint-U, a former fellow of Trinity 
College, Cambridge, is the author of The River of 
Lost Footsteps: Histories of Burma.


______


[2]

Hindustan Times
February 1, 2007

MODI, MODY & CO

by Rajdeep Sardesai

There are two Mr Modis I know in Gujarat. One 
spells his  surname with an 'i', the other with a 
'y'. Narendra Modi is a familiar household name. 
He is the Chief Minister of a 'Vibrant Gujarat', 
his political constituency's 'Hindu Hriday 
Samrat' and the BJP's man-in-waiting. After more 
than five years in power, he is the unquestioned 
leader of the Gujarat BJP and easily the most 
popular political figure in the state today. In 
the last five years, he has won every election in 
the state with a comfortable majority, from 
panchayat polls to a two-thirds victory in the 
assembly elections. His face adorns hoardings 
across the state and his supporters and 
well-oiled propaganda machine have anointed him 
Gujarat's modern-day sardar. Truly, in the last 
five years, Narendra Modi has been catapulted 
from a relatively faceless RSS pracharak to 
becoming a larger-than-life figure within the 
Hindutva pantheon.

But this article is not meant to be about the 
Modi you know. Let me introduce you to another Mr 
Mody from Gujarat, the one who spells his surname 
with a 'y'. It's unlikely you've ever met, or 
heard of, Dara Mody. In his early 40s, Dara Mody 
is the typical anonymous Indian. He works in the 
Gujarat government's Science City in an Ahmedabad 
suburb as a projectionist in an Imax theatre. 
Driving around in his two-wheeler across the 
city, he is a God-fearing Parsi, soft-spoken and 
rather shy. Television cameras are unlikely to 
follow him, no one will chant his name and he 
hasn't ever appeared on a hoarding. He is very 
different from the other Mr Modi, and yet the 
fate of the two men are strangely linked.

For the last five years, while Narendrabhai has 
been winning election after election and building 
an ever-rising personality cult, Dara Mody has 
been roaming the streets of Ahmedabad and its 
police stations in search of his son. Dara's 
14-year-old son, Azhar, went missing on February 
28, 2002, the day the post-Godhra violence tore 
apart parts of Gujarat. It was a defining day in 
the lives of both the Modi(y)s. While the 
violence transformed Narendra Modi into a 
modern-day hero of hatred and a 'saviour' of 
Hindus, Dara Mody's humdrum middle-class life was 
shattered irrevocably.

Dara lived in Ahmedabad's Gulberg society. When 
he left for work at 9 am that February day, he 
could have scarcely imagined how his little world 
would be changed forever. Gulberg was the scene 
of one of the worst massacres of the 2002 Gujarat 
riots, where more than 49 people were butchered 
(there is no other word that can be used to 
express the savagery) to death. Among them was 
the former Congress MP, Ehsaan Jaffrey. Dara's 
teenaged son, Azhar, was with his mother, Rupa, 
and sister, Binaifer, when the mob attacked 
Gulberg. A frightened Rupa held on to her two 
children, desperately telling the attackers that 
she was a Parsi and not a Muslim. Her son was 
snatched away, never to be found. She and her now 
13-year-old daughter have lived to tell the tale 
of horror and bestiality.

While Narendrabhai has thousands of supporters 
cheering him on, Dara has his distraught wife and 
shell-shocked daughter for company. What binds 
Dara's family together is their search for their 
lost son, his memories captured in a fading photo 
album, including the last image of Azhar in his 
school uniform, proudly holding the tricolour. In 
the last five years, Dara, like the other 
families in Gulberg society, has been unable to 
return home. Their three-room house is still 
locked, a portrait of Zarathustra and a wall 
calendar with a February 2002 dateline the only 
reminders of what was once a happy, innocent 
little world. Time has stood still in Gulberg, a 
burst of bougainvillea in the central garden the 
only sign of life in an abandoned neighbourhood. 
Not one person has been convicted for the Gulberg 
massacre, and Dara can't hope to return to his 
home for fear that the killers may be roaming on 
the streets outside the colony.

Till a few weeks ago, Dara's story was just 
another statistic on the bloody map of Gujarat 
2002, a map that includes both those who lost 
their loved ones in the Sabarmati train tragedy 
and those who suffered in the riots. At least the 
families of those who died in the Sabarmati blaze 
have the comfort of knowing that the alleged 
perpetrators have been arrested under Pota and 
are awaiting sentencing. By sharp contrast, there 
has not been a single conviction in any of the 
major riots cases. Ask Dara what he feels today, 
and the eyes become moist. "How can I feel 
anything when I have lost my teenaged son," he 
says, without, remarkably, any trace of rancour. 
And then, with a hint of a smile, he reminds you, 
"I work for the government in Science City. How 
can I say anything about my employers!"

Now, Dara's story is the subject of  a major 
movie, Parzania, a film that has already won 
critical acclaim across the world, but is 
unlikely to be screened in Gujarat itself. Why 
should we have to revive the ghosts of 2002, 
Gujarat has moved on, runs the argument. On the 
face of it, Gujarat has indeed moved on. The 
state ranks second today in terms of new 
investments - proof, say Modi's fan club, that 
Gujarat's entrepreneurial spirit has triumphed 
over the scars of violence. The 'Vibrant Gujarat' 
conclave - the showpiece of the Modi government - 
has been seen as a resounding success, with 363 
MoUs being signed, and investments worth 
thousands of crores being promised. With the 
entire weight of India Inc - from Ratan Tata to 
Mukesh Ambani - lining up behind the Chief 
Minister, Gujarat's pariah status is gone. Five 
years ago, CII and several corporates had 
questioned the Modi government's handling of the 
riots. Today, virtually every business house is 
extolling the virtues of the Chief Minister, 
widely seen as being non-corrupt and 
administratively efficient. In a state where the 
Opposition is feeble, and where previous chief 
ministers have been seen as either corrupt or 
ineffectual, Modi stands out as someone who has 
brought a muscular energy and a reputation for 
financial probity to the CM's office.

Why then should pesky 'secularist crusaders' 
spoil the party by repeatedly raising the ghosts 
of the 2002 violence? Why should human rights 
activists from outside Gujarat hold public 
hearings in the state to find out about missing 
persons? Why should only the stories of grieving 
families of the riots cases be told? Why not make 
a film on the Panchal family, whose four members 
died in the Godhra train burning? And why give so 
much attention to Dara Mody, when the real hero 
of Gujarat is perhaps the other Modi? 
Unfortunately, those who ask these questions fail 
to answer certain more basic questions: how can 
the quest for individual and collective justice 
be seen in narrow, partisan terms? How can the 
political ascent of an ideology be used to sweep 
aside the human dimension of a tragedy? Can a 
state's success be measured only in terms of 
monetary investments? What about the social 
fabric that remains badly ruptured? Is the 
shining present good enough to sweep aside the 
darkened recent past?

Perhaps, some answers can be found if the two 
Modi(y)s meet. Maybe, Narendrabhai may wish to 
consider placing his arm around Darabhai's 
shoulder, maybe he might find the time to share 
Dara's grief, maybe he could even consider doing 
something as simple as saying sorry to the Mody 
couple. It is not just communal hatred that 
divides Gujarat even today. It is the absence of 
a sense of remorse or compassion. In the long 
run, this cannot be the recipe for a 'Vibrant 
Gujarat'.

Rajdeep Sardesai is Editor-in-Chief, CNN IBN and IBN 7

______


[3]

WHO WILL DECIDE WHETHER GUJARATIS WANT TO SEE PARZANIA OR NOT? 

ANHAD is announced today on February 2, 2007 a 
SMS and e-mail contest for the Gujarati youth 
(15-25 years).

Topic: Let  Parzania be Screened

Perturbed by the constant censorship by the State 
government on people's right to freedom of 
expression , Anhad has decided to announce this 
competition where young people can  freely and 
creatively express their feelings.

Young people are requested to send in their 
entries as 1. SMS messages and 2. e-mails.

  The best five entries from each category will 
get a very special prize : that is they will meet 
the cast and the director of the film. So 10 
young people ( 5 from both categories) will have 
an exclusive interaction with Naseeruddin Shah, 
Sarika and Rahul Dholakia . They will also be 
given certificates of merit.

Entries will be judged by a panel of 3 people . 
Weightage will be given to the content and 
creativity both.

Category 1: sms to be sent to 9212110643
Category 2: e-mails to be sent to <mailto:parzania at gmail.com>parzania at gmail.com

Last date: 10 February, 2007

Prizes will be announced on February 14, 2007

Shabnam Hashmi
ANHAD ( Act Now for Harmony and Democracy)
310, Shanti Sadan Estate
Laldarwaza, Opp Dinbai Tower
Ahmedabad


______


[4]

The Hindu
February 03, 2007

Editorial

SAFFRON RIDES AGAIN

If there is one clear political message from the 
results of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation 
elections, it is that the city's secular parties 
are so divided by mutual antagonism that they 
cannot overcome the ideologues of Hindutva. This 
lack of cohesion among non-communal parties has 
resulted, in the past, in the ascendancy of the 
Bharatiya Janata Party and its allies at the 
Centre. Successive elections in Gujarat have also 
shown the edge that a purposefully directed 
Hindutva campaign has over a disunited secular 
front. The same scenario has now been played out 
in India's commercial capital, which the 
Congress-Nationalist Congress Party coalition 
that rules Maharashtra had hoped to wrest from 
the Shiv Sena-BJP combine. That hope was 
unrealistic, since the Congress and the NCP 
failed to arrive at a pre-poll seat-sharing 
arrangement. They thus virtually handed over the 
elections to the saffron combine: while the 
secular vote was badly fractured between these 
two major players, small but cumulatively 
significant segments of the cake were carried off 
by Raj Thackeray's Maharashtra Navanirman Sena, 
the Samajwadi Party, the various factions of the 
Republican Party of India (RPI), and rebel 
candidates from all parties.

Many among Mumbai's middle class had been looking 
forward to these polls, enthused by the presence 
of untested but clean, independent candidates 
supported by citizens' action groups: individuals 
whose campaigns had emphasised civic issues such 
as bureaucratic accountability, public hygiene, 
and the availability of basic amenities. Despite 
their best efforts, the turnout was below 50 per 
cent. These votaries of Utopia will be 
disappointed; the politics of Mumbai is still 
determined by charismatic demagoguery and ethnic 
loyalties. The Shiv Sena, claiming the mantle of 
the `zaanta Raja' (the compassionate monarch), 
denied tickets to a large number of sitting 
corporators, in response to complaints from 
constituents. The Sena also persuaded its 
patriarch, Bal Thackeray, to roar again in the 
cause of `Hindu nationalism.' The BJP flew in 
Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi to woo the 
city's substantial Gujarati voters. This 
concerted strategy inspired large numbers of 
Sena-BJP supporters to vote; by contrast, the 
secular parties had nothing to offer except 
looming cut-outs of their leaders. The results 
from Mumbai and the nine other municipal 
corporations in Maharashtra are viewed, in some 
quarters, as a foretaste of what the 2009 
Assembly elections will bring. While Maharashtra 
does tend to vote differently at the civic and 
the State levels, the ruling Congress-NCP 
coalition will be fooling itself if it made light 
of its defeat at the grassroots.


o o o

Indian Express
February 03, 2007

Editorial

SENA GETS MUMBAI KEYS AGAIN

CIVIC POLLS: Message from across the state: Congress the loser, advantage Pawar

Mumbai February 2: After two of its senior 
leaders, Narayan Rane and Raj Thackeray, walked 
out with their followers, Bal Thackeray's Shiv 
Sena was facing what was perceived as its worst 
civic election. But today, the ageing Tiger led 
his party and the saffron combine to a third 
successive term at the Brihanmumbai Municipal 
Corporation.

The Congress could increase its numbers 
marginally from 63 to 71 over the last polls 
while the NCP could not add a single seat to its 
strength of 14. And though the Sena's strength 
has come down from 103 to 83 and the BJP's from 
from 37 to 28, the saffron alliance has emerged 
as the single largest combine.

Raj Thackeray's MNS won just seven, Arun Gawli's 
Akhil Bharatiya Sena, two, and the Samajwadi 
Party, eight. The Sena-BJP combine is set to take 
the corporation with a little help from friendly 
Independents in the 227-member House.

The Sena-BJP alliance won the neighbouring Thane 
and Ulhasnagar and wrested Nagpur from Congress. 
That was not all for the Congress: In Pune, which 
was once its bastion, it needs NCP's support to 
rule and in neighbouring Pimpri Chinchwad, its 
junior partner in the state is miles ahead of the 
Grand Old Party. So if there's a clear loser in 
the poll, it's the Congress.

"Some people had teased the Tiger," a jubilant 
executive president of the Sena, Uddhav 
Thackeray, said after the election results were 
declared. "Now the Tiger has struck back." He 
said that he would give credit to his father, 
forefathers and Gods _ an indication of the 
emotive appeal of Marathi Manoos made by Bal 
Thackeray.

The senior Thackeray attributed the victory to 
the leadership of heir-designate Uddhav 
Thackeray. He was dismissive of those who had 
left the party - Narayan Rane,now the state 
revenue minister, and nephew Raj Thackeray, who 
formed his own Maharashtra Navanirman Sena - and 
described them as "insects."

He also said he was suprised at the "surge of the saffron alliance."

The statement faxed to newspapers said he praised 
senior leaders like Manohar Joshi, Subhash Desai, 
Ramdas Kadam, Pramold Navalkar and others for 
their efforts.

For Uddhav this was a test. Leading a poll 
campaign after facing the revolts from Narayan 
Rane and

Raj Thackeray, he had his back to the wall. "It 
was an acid test for me, though I had passed 
similar tests in 1997 and 2002," he said.

"But because of the blessings of our forefathers 
and Gods as well as our loyal supporters, our 
votes did not split."

But despite the division in its ranks and its 
weakening ally, the BJP _ it was going through a 
leadership crisis after the death of Pramod 
Mahajan _ Sena did have a few advantages.

The Congress and the NCP had failed to forge a 
pre-poll alliance; and the Dalit parties had 
formed a Third Front with the Samajwadi Party and 
Left parties

The Sena, which had little to flaunt about 
improvement in civic affairs in the last decade, 
worked out a clear strategy. Aware of its 
anti-incumbency factor, it denied tickets to 58 
sitting corporators and nominated new young 
faces. Then, the Sena leaders blamed the central 
and state governments (read the Congress party) 
for not giving Mumbai its share of taxes (a 
whopping Rs 70,000 crore).

During the election campaign, the party decided 
to focus not on civic issues, but on emotive 
ones: the ageing and ailing Bal Thackeray (who 
had the misfortune of witnessing the 
fragmentation of the party he nurtured for four 
decades); the declining numbers of Marathi Manoos 
in Mumbai (which the Sena placed at 32 per cent); 
the "conspiracy" of the Congress to severe Mumbai 
from Maharashtra to make it a city-state or a 
union territory for affluent migrants; the 
insecurity faced by Mumbaiites in wake of terror 
attacks; and the assurance that only Shiv Sainiks 
could protect the citizens from the terror of the 
"green monster" (read Muslims) as they claimed to 
have done during the 1993 riots.

To drive home the party's point, Hindutva's 
poster-boy and Gujarat's chief minister Narendra 
Modi was brought in to campaign for the Sena-BJP 
alliance.

The educated and the affluent class did not come 
out to vote, as usual, while the traditional 
votebank of the Sena - the Marathi-speaking lower 
middle-class and those living in slums and chawls 
responded to the ageing Tiger's appeal.

The success of the Shiv Sena-BJP alliance in the 
BMC is a wakeup call for the Congress and the NCP.

In the 2004 assembly polls, the NCP had emerged 
as the single largest party with 71 MLAs and the 
Congress had 68 MLAs in the House of 288. The 
Congress got a boost a year later, when Bal 
Thackeray's trusted lieutenant Narayan Rane 
revolted against Uddhav and joined the Congress.

Rane got re-elected on a Congress ticket to 
become the revenue minister in the Deshmukh 
cabinet.

His importance in the party grew as seven of his 
supporters in the Sena resigned as MLAs and six 
of them got re-elected on Congress tickets.

This made the Congress overtake the NCP in 
numbers in the assembly and become the largest 
party with 75 MLAs. On the eve of the BMC polls, 
Rane had promised that he would wipe out the 
Sena, but instead, most of his supporters fielded 
by the Congress, got defeated owing to infighting.


_____


[5]  [The Hindu right is having a party in India; 
These specialists of communal violence have been 
at work in Karnataka, in Madhya Pradesh and most 
recently in Eastern UP. There is likelihood of 
more violence as the legislative elections 
approach. ]

o o o

(i)

People's Democracy
February 04, 2007

KARNATAKA
Sangh Parivar Again Incites Communal Violence

by G N Nagaraj

WHILE the earlier episodes of communal violence, 
the 10 days of curfew and the disruption of life 
were fresh in the memory of the people of 
Karnataka, the Sangh Parivar instigated yet 
another episode of well planned violence in two 
assembly constituencies of Bangalore where the 
BJP had won. The reason is simple. The BJP, which 
won an unprecedented 79 seats in the Karnataka 
assembly last time, is afraid of losing many of 
its seats in the event of a new election. That is 
the main reason that for both partners of the 
present coalition government --- the BJP and the 
JD(S), with the letter S ironically standing for 
"secular" --- are somehow continuing their unholy 
alliance with all its contradictions. The Sangh 
Parivar wants to use the BJP's hold on 
administration to polarise the polity on communal 
lines and make the state one of its secure bases. 
It has held several baithaks here and the RSS's 
chief and other national leaders are making 
frequent visits to the state --- many a time 
unannounced.

RALLY'S FAILURE & ITS AFTERMATH

That is why the Parivar is inciting a number of 
local or village level communal conflicts in its 
old bases from where its men were elected several 
times in elections. They made in the past and are 
still making all out efforts to create a 
controversy around a Sufi dargah in Baba 
Budangiri and use the issue to polarise the 
people on communal lines. When the NDA government 
was in power in New Delhi, the BJP's Ananth 
Kumar, then a central minister, had openly 
declared that they would make Baba Budangiri the 
Ayodhya of the south and Karnataka a Gujarat.

Recently, in November 2006, during the rallies 
that were held to raise anew the Baba Budangiri 
issue, they incited communal violence in 
Mangalore and the surrounding talukas. The ten 
days of curfew that had to be imposed at that 
time, some other factors and also the CPI(M)'s 
intervention ignited the common people's dislike 
for the communal forces. This was evident from 
their rally at Baba Budangiri on December 3, 
2006. While the Parivar used to mobilise 30,000 
to 50,000 people in the earlier previous years, 
the December 3 rally was a big failure, with only 
3,000 people participating in it.

However, the Sangh Parivar's response to its 
failure has been to step up its communal 
propaganda and drive by organising a series of 
"Virat Hindu Samaveshas" (Grand Hindu 
Congregations) in the name of M S Golvalkar's 
centenary at the takuka and district levels and 
within cities. For its public meetings during 
this drive, the Parivar not only roped in popular 
swamis and mutt chiefs belonging to many castes, 
but also misused the images of Bhagat Singh, 
Vivekananda, Ambedkar, Karnataka's social 
reformers like Basavanna and Kanaka Dasa, 
venerated by Lingayats and shepherds, along with 
Golvalkar's images. The Parivar also sought to 
exploit issues and non-issues like terrorism, the 
so-called minority appeasement, cow slaughter and 
conversions etc in a bid to incite communal 
hatred. Tens of lakhs of rupees were spent to 
decorate whole towns or cities with cutouts, 
banners and flags. Many of the cutouts displayed 
the images of cow slaughter, or of Shivaji 
thrusting his sword into the body of a Mughal 
commandant, or of gods in militant postures. 
These Virat Hindu Samaveshas were preceded by 
meetings involving doctors, advocates, bus 
owners, hotel owners and workers in such 
establishments. Several motorcycle rallies were 
organised as part of preparation of each 
Samavesha. The whole scene looked intimidating 
and made the minorities, particularly the 
Muslims, anxious.

A recent development is that this situation is 
being used by Muslim fundamentalists who have 
formed an organisation, called the Karnataka 
Forum for Dignity (KFD), and are working in close 
association with the fundamentalist National 
Democratic Front (NDF) of Kerala. It is also 
associated with the PWG group of naxalites in 
Karnataka. They are thus only giving excuses to 
Sangh Parivar to incite communal hatred by making 
crude efforts to attack the Sangh Parivar rallies 
and organise Muslims for rallies. The KFD too is 
spending several lakhs of rupees on propaganda 
materials and other things.

COMMUNAL VIOLENCE IN BANGALORE

On the same day when the CITU held a grand rally 
at the conclusion of the all-India CITU 
conference in Bangalore on January 21 when a 
massive turnout of workers raised militant 
slogans against communalism, the RSS organised 
three Virat Hindu Samaveshas at three different 
places in Bangalore city. While going in a 
procession to the venue of the Samavesha being 
held at Halasur, Sangh Parivar's activists passed 
through minority areas and markets where they 
burnt buses and auto-rickshaws as well as looted 
and burnt shops. More than 40 vehicles (buses and 
auto-rickshaws) belonging to drivers from the 
minority community were thus consigned to flames. 
When the police resorted to lathicharge and 
firing, a boy of 12 years of age was killed and 
more than 40 persons were wounded. Curfew was 
imposed for two days. Though curfew was relaxed 
later, section 144 continued for some more time. 
More than 400 youth were arrested and kept in 
undisclosed places but, surprisingly, most of the 
people hurt in the lathicharge and firing as well 
as most of those arrested after the violence 
belonged to the minority community. Policemen 
also barged into the houses of Muslim citizens at 
the midnight, and beat up women, children and old 
people while arresting the able-bodied persons.

Perhaps to avoid the stigma that stuck to the 
Sangh Parivar in regard to the Mangalore communal 
violence a few months ago, the Parivar cunningly 
used the protest actions organised on January 19 
by the Muslim masses against the hanging of 
Saddam as its starting point. On January 19 
itself, a communal conflict erupted when two 
groups destroyed banners and festoons belonging 
to one another. Many vehicles were damaged, and 
lathicharge and firing had to be resorted. 
Inspite of such incidences of violence, however, 
the administration granted permission for holding 
the RSS's Hindu Samajotsava and rallies.

CPI(M)'S STANDPOINT

The CPI(M) has been consistently intervening in 
the situations of communal violence in the past. 
Its cadres and leaders have visited the affected 
areas, consoled the people and demanded actions 
against the culprits and also against the 
conniving police officials.

On the issue of the RSS-BJP depredations 
regarding the Baba Budangiri shrine, the CPI(M)'s 
independent intervention and its joint actions 
along with progressive forces, litterateurs and 
other intellectuals had forced the state 
government to go on defensive. Even though being 
a ruling coalition partner, the BJP could not 
have its way in introducing Hindu rituals in the 
Sufi shrine and converting this Sufi dargah into 
a Datta temple.

The DYFI organised at Baba Budangiri a rally of 
the youth from all over the state, with the 
slogan "Youth March for Communal Harmony."

With regard to the Virat Hindu Samaveshas also, 
the CPI(M) has condemned the misuse of images of 
Bhagat Singh and other national heroes, and has 
taken initiative to mobilise the progressive 
forces to condemn this practice.

In regard to the Bangalore violence, a fact 
finding mission of the CPI(M), led by its state 
secretary G N Nagaraj, visited on January 23 the 
areas affected and the hospitals where the 
injured were undergoing treatment. The delegation 
comprised the party's state secretariat members V 
J K Nair, Maruthi Manpade, S Y Gurushanth and 
Prasanna Kumar, state committee members K Prakash 
and K N Umesh, a number of activists and auto 
drivers.

On January 24, another fact finding team visited 
the areas; it consisted of some eminent writers, 
and film and theatre artists, dalit activists, 
trade unionists and others. These progressive 
intellectuals and leaders from the Left parties 
also addressed a joint press conference, while a 
delegation of intellectuals and Left parties 
later met the state's chief minister and the home 
minister.

Now the CPI(M) has made the following demands:

    1. Ban on holding Virat Hindu Samajotsavas or Samaveshas in coming days.
    2. Removal of cutouts and banners inciting 
violence or spreading communal hatred.
    3. Action against the authorities who 
permitted the holding of the Virat Hindu 
Samajotsavas and rallies relating to them on 
January 21, even after the communal violence of 
January 19.
    4. Removal of R Ashok, minister in charge of 
Bangalore district, who belongs to the BJP and 
was responsible for permitting the Hindu 
Samajotsavas on January 21.
    5. Release of all the innocent people arrested.
    6. Action against such speeches as incite communal violence.

The CPI(M) has also appealed to the swamis and 
mutt chiefs not to participate in the Virat Hindu 
Samajotsavas. Further, it has also appealed to 
the followers of these mutts and the followers of 
Basavanna, Kanaka Dasa, Ambedkar etc to raise 
their voice against these Hindu Samajotsavas.

It is ironical that while misusing the symbols 
and saints of various castes and giving a call 
for the Hindus of all castes to unite, many of 
the upper caste mutt chiefs as well as BJP 
leaders protested against giving eggs as part of 
the midday meals scheme claiming that egg is a 
tamas (lowly) food and that only satvika 
(vegetarian) food like milk and fruits must be 
given under this scheme. The chiefs of mutts 
belonging to the non-vegetarian castes have been 
keeping mum for the fear that they would not be 
invited to the Hindu Samajotsavas. It is ironical 
that the JD(S) chief minister, who is identified 
with a non-vegetarian caste and champions the 
cause of the OBCs, succumbed to the pressure from 
BJP leaders and mutt chiefs to withdraw the order 
regarding distribution of eggs and instead 
ordered the supply of milk.

_____


(ii)

Economic Times
FEBRUARY 03, 2007

RIOTS AS AN ALIBI FOR GANGSTERISM

Moditva in east UP

Lest the opponents of Narendra Modi's politics 
think otherwise, BJP president Rajnath Singh's 
decision to drop the Gujarat CM from the party's 
Parliamentary Board and Central Election 
Committee does not spell his marginalisation.

In the BJP, it's politics that ultimately drives 
the organisation. So, it's immaterial whether 
Modi the individual holds any organisational post 
as long as the politics he personifies continues 
to yield dividends.

Moditva - characterised by a state of affairs in 
which the minorities are cowed down and in a 
state of fear - has of late assumed pan-Indian 
proportions. The communal violence in east UP, 
where economic assets of the minority community 
are being specifically targeted, bears its stamp.

Deliberate attempts at economic cleansing has 
reportedly been a pattern during various communal 
riots the state has witnessed over the past 
couple of years. The emergence of a Muslim 
entrepreneurial class from among craftsmen and 
artisans in some areas of the state, post 
liberalisation, has reconfigured traditional 
social relations.

This may have led to tension which has been 
exploited by those inclined towards communal 
politics. It would be facile to argue that the 
relative economic prosperity of a section of the 
minority community inevitably leads to communal 
riots. The reality in most Indian cities is that 
the major communities are thoroughly economically 
entwined.

But in times of trouble, such as Bombay in 1993 
or Gujarat 2002, communal tensions, never far 
from the surface in India, can be stoked with 
devastating results. This results in attacks on 
business establishments owned by members of the 
minority community.

The Hindu Yuva Vahini - which has orchestrated 
most of those riots, and which is in between a 
gang and a socio-political organisation - is a 
perfect embodiment of UP's new communal ethos. 
It's true that Vahini chief and BJP's Gorakhpur 
MP Adityanath has been arrested.

But he, like most key architects of riots in UP 
and elsewhere, is likely to be released without 
prosecution. That is only to be expected in 
communally polarised states where all parties, 
irrespective of their ideological professions, 
are engaged in identity politics.

Forces like the Vahini, and their ideological 
impulse, can be defeated on the battlefield of 
socio-economic transformation; not identity 
politics.

______


[6]


Himal Southasian
February 2007 issue

BURMA SPECIAL

Articles
* Gandhi and the general, by Amar Kanwar
* Reframing the 'Burma Question', by Thant Myint-U
* The distasteful Burma-India embrace, and
* The victims of Operation Leech, by Soe Myint
* Oil in the eyes, by Kim

Photo Feature
Naypyitaw: Dictatorship by cartography, by Siddharth Varadarajan

All can be downloaded at <http://www.himalmag.com>www.himalmag.com



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