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The Evolution of Rahul Gandhi

The Kashmir Monitor





A sober yet visibly happy Rahul Gandhi took the mike to address the press yesterday, as the Congress – under his leadership – recorded its most decisive victory in recent polls, and is all set to form the government in three key states, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and Chhattisgarh.

“This is the victory of the Congress worker, who has in difficult circumstances, stood up and fought for our ideology. I am very proud of him, and her,” Rahul Gandhi said. The media address focused on the youth and farmers, joblessness and agrarian distress. There was no mudslinging, no name calling, no smug chest thumping… Just the sober acceptance of a victory, and an acknowledgment of the hard work and challenges ahead.


Video clips of RG’s media address were all over my social media feed – on Facebook, Twitter, in Whatsapp groups, and even on Instagram. “I don’t know how I feel about Rahul Gandhi leading the country,” said one Facebook friend (acquaintance?), “but this speech is an indication of his emergence as a leader.”

“The results of the assembly elections indicate the gradual acceptance of Rahul Gandhi as a leader,” offered another Facebook acquaintance. “I like how Rahul Gandhi is being humble as well as addressing the farmers issue in the press conference. No mud slinging,” said my colleague Ribhu, as he shared a clip of Ravish Kumar’s prime time show from last night in our Citizen Reporters’ Whatsapp group.

Twitter – the most vitriol heavy of all social media – too was largely positive. “Rahul Gandhi victory speech was one of the most humble speeches after a long time and didn’t seem orchestrated,” read one comment. “In contrast despite endless jibes and personal attacks by opposition, @RahulGandhi remained focussed, talked about issues and stayed humble, grounded and graceful, which forced people to acknowledge him,” read another.

Media headlines echoed some of what I was seeing on social media. “Rahul Gandhi Sheds ‘Pappu’ Tag, Ready for a Presidential Style Face-off With Nemesis NaMo,” read one very dramatic headline.

The emergence of Rahul Gandhi… on social media and in newspaper headlines. The same social media and newspaper headlines that had convinced us to dismiss the same Rahul Gandhi till just a few months ago… spinning a narrative that focused on his lack of political acumen and his privileged upbringing, neatly packaged in the ‘pappu’ tag attached to him.

But now that the media is saying that he’s shedding his ‘pappu’ tag, he must be… right?

The media discourse on Rahul Gandhi peddles the narrative of a dumb, privileged political noob transforming into a worthy political leader – with the assembly election results in Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and Chhattisgarh being the cocoon for his metamorphosis.

But enough with the media narrative, or any political narrative. As I too am guilty of buying into it. Sometime in 2013, while I was working as a research associate in education, a senior colleague invited me to a closed door roundtable with Rahul Gandhi. “It’s to discuss what problems you see in the education sector,” my senior colleague explained, adding that five to eight people from within the world of education had been invited. I jumped at the opportunity, but made sure to include the caveat that it would probably be pointless. “You might be surprised,” was what my colleague left it at.

We went around the table of senior educationists – each pointing out a weighty matter concerning education and the country’s youth. When it came to my turn (I was one of two young – unaccomplished? – people at the table), I was well prepared. I had little to say about education, as I had all of one year’s experience in the field, but I had a lot to say as a young, opinionated Indian.

I told Rahul Gandhi that as a young Indian, I don’t know what alternative the Congress can provide. It seems to never take the BJP head on, instead toeing a safe and cautious line. I don’t know what ideology the Congress stands for anymore, I said. (I also added a little bit about the crumbling organisation – “Where’s the Mahila Congress? Where’s the Youth Congress?” , the disenchanted cadre, the lack of local leadership. Points offered by my parents in a bid to make me seem like I knew what I was talking about.)

Rahul Gandhi listened, and spent maybe 20 minutes addressing most of the points I had raised, and concluding on the lines that he was working on changing things, but that “change takes time.”

I quickly forgot about that meeting, as the very idealistic world of education drew me back in. But every time I heard someone refer to Rahul Gandhi as ‘pappu,’ I’d interject with anecdotes of my one, brief meeting. “Actually, he’s very politically sound… (and so on).”

A year later, I found myself in journalism, working with this publication. The ‘pappu’ narrative then extended from my drawing room to my work place, most notably on my reporting assignments.

The first election I covered was the Bihar assembly elections of 2015. The ‘pappu’ narrative was well pronounced, even as the Congress was virtually a non player as its allies in the Mahagathbandhan took on the BJP. The little that was said on the Congress politician was dismissive and belittling, with voters making it clear that the Congress was piggybacking on the JD(U) and RJD.

In the UP assembly elections in early 2017, it was the same story. I attended Rahul Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi’s election rally in home turf Raebareli, and couldn’t help noting how disconnected they seemed from the local people. And while there were still kinder words for the Rahul Gandhi in Amethi and Raebareli, the voter wasn’t as sympathetic in the other parts of the state we covered.

Where the narrative began to turn was in the Gujarat elections in late 2017. Media headlines didn’t acknowledge this shift, but our coverage did, as the voter – for the first time – spoke of Rahul Gandhi as a worthy opposition leader. I remember a young voter in Patel dominated Mehsana going as far as saying, “Pehle Modi kileharchalithi, ab Rahul kileharhai (earlier there was a Modi wave, now there’s a Rahul wave).” An exaggeration, of course, but words of praise for Rahul Gandhi – even from staunch BJP supporters – were the norm and not the exception as we traveled through Gujarat.

It was also a different Congress in Gujarat – with buzzing party offices and workers visible in even the sleepiest rural districts.

This narrative, of according Rahul Gandhi a place as a legitimate and worthy political leader, continued through the last election that I covered – Karnataka. Although Siddaramaiah remained the foremost Congress name, voters – irrespective of who they were voting for – spoke of Rahul Gandhi in more or less positive terms.

The five state assembly elections are indicative of the Congress’ standing as a worthy political opposition in 2019 – as long as the party changes tack and makes bold to project an agenda, instead of relying almost entirely on the anti-incumbency factor.

I didn’t cover these elections as a reporter, but my social media feed is indicative of Rahul Gandhi’s acceptance as a leader among a very interesting subset of the vote base – the young, urban, middle class voter.

But on the ground, Rahul Gandhi had already secured his place as a viable leader. It’s taken the media – and as a result, the urban young person on my social media feeds – a couple of additional elections to catch on.

While scrolling through my social media feeds this morning, I was reminded of that one, brief meeting with Rahul Gandhi, and the promise implicit in the statement, “change takes time.”

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The Kashmir Monitor



By Shabbir Aariz

This indeed is proverbially a herculean task to describe or define John Elia in any particular frame. Whosoever while mentioning him, is either trapped in contradictions of one’s own opinion or is able to confine to a few verses of John Elia to judge him. But the more one tries to understand John, the more confused one is and I believe that you need another John Elia to explain him. He is a phenomenon, a thing like a live fish to hold in your hand or an elephant amongst blinds to be described. Wusatullah Khan, a noted broadcaster, holds that knowing John is as good as dating with a liberated lady. And it is quite obvious that a man who in him is a philosopher, a scholar, a biographer, a linguist with command over Urdu, Arabic, English, Persian, Sanskrit and Hebrew and needless to say that the Ismaili sect of the subcontinent could not find anyone other than John to translate Ismaili treatises from Hebrew, it becomes a tedious affair to be conclusive about John. Common perception though with an element of truth is that John is a progressive Marxist, an unconventional poet and always in denial of everything including himself while himself saying in three line verse,





(Anyone prepared to argue and prove that my existence is imperative for life). His poetry is admittedly very close to life and his verses in the words of a legendry poet, Majrooh Sultanpuri, are like a dialogue which no other poet has the distinction to be capable of. John has an extra-ordinary craft of connecting with his audience that has created an unprecedented fan following which no other contemporary poet can claim to have. So magical is his poetry and its rendition that it has created a cult of his admirers with such an obsession and longing for the life of melancholy lead by John Elia himself. It is no secret that he was never a happy man with defiance and protest against everything and anything around. Loudly a nonconformist when he says
“unjaman main mayri khamooshi…..

burdabari nahin hay wehshat hay”.

His style made him famous and popular. He appears to be disgusted even with creation when he says … “HASILE KUN HAY YEH JAHANE KHARAAB….


His admirers strangely wish to pass through the same pain and despair that is hallmark of John’s poetry besides satire and the disdain for the system which contributed to his sadness in life. He has so glorified and romanticized the pain and sadness that it leaves his audience in frenzied ecstasy.

John Elia was born in the year 1931 and died in 2002. He originally belonged to Amroha in the state of Uttar Pradesh, younger brother of Rayees Amrohi, a known journalist and writer. John migrated to Pakistan in the year 1957 and settled in Karachi where he is buried now. But Amroha never left his heart and mind. He never felt comfortable after leaving Amroha partly because his stay in Karachi brought him in conflict with the system too. Many other things have also contributed to his sadness in life. He was married to a well-known writer of Pakistan, Zahida Hina but in mid-80’s , the relation between the two became bumpy and ended up in divorce which left John devastated and for ten long years thereafter went in depression without writing a word.

As is true about many in the history of literature, John earned his name and fame more after his death than in his life time while he was not received well and felt a strange type of suffocation when he says,



Thanks to the electronic boom and You Tube that brought him to the lime light and enabled audience to reach him and his works. As if this was not enough that his first poetic collection only came to be published when he reached the age of 60. It is worthwhile mention that he has as many as seven poetic collections to his credit namely SHAYAD, YANI, LEKIN, GUMAAN, GOYA, FARMOD and RAMOOZ. Except one, all other are published posthumously. This is besides his scholarly works in prose which may require greater insight to go into.

John all his life remained honest, direct and straightforward in expressing his views on matters of public interest. He also never demonstrated any pretentions or reservations while expressing the truth of his personal life. He never made any secret of his fantasies, love affairs or drinking habits. Yet he was never at peace either with the times or with himself. John Elia, in my humble opinion lived ahead of times and even the desire of dying young without being bed ridden was not granted to him except that he strangely enough wanted to die of tuberculosis and which he did.

(The author, a senior lawyers, is a well known poet and writer. Feedback at: [email protected])

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Manto: Why I wanted to read a ‘lewd’ writer

The Kashmir Monitor



By Naveed Hussain

I first read Saadat Hasan Manto as a teenager and the spirit of what I’m writing now was etched on my memory in those years.

I was too young to understand the intricacies of his stories but I enjoyed what I read and craved for more. Back then, Manto wasn’t available in the small town of Haripur where I lived. A friend introduced me to a schoolteacher, a bibliophile who had a modest collection of Manto in his personal library.


“Why do you want to read Manto, he’s a ribald, lewd writer,” he quipped. “This is exactly why I want to read him,” I replied, almost impulsively. He smiled and agreed to lend me Manto’s books. Thus began my journey to explore Manto. The more I read, the deeper my love for him became.

Manto was a nonconformist, an unorthodox and ruthlessly bold writer. He didn’t believe in the so-called literary norms of ‘decency’ and ‘civility’ set by didactic writers of his time. For him, truth is truth. No matter how bitter and despicable the reality, Manto never dilutes the truth. Like a muckraker, he pokes his nose into the muck, rakes it, and then holds it up to the reader – in all its profound ugliness and twisted beauty. “If you don’t know your society, read my stories. If you find a defect, it’s the defect of your society, not my stories,” he says.

Manto wrote on socially taboo topics like sex, incest and prostitution, which earned him the wrath of contemporary traditionalists, conservatives and even progressives. For some of his ‘lewd’ and ‘obscene’ stories he had to face lawsuits – among them were great stories such as Thanda Gosht, Bu, Khol Do, Dhuan and Kali Shalwar.

But it is to miss the point to simply say that Manto wrote about sex. He wrote about the sexual debauchery of men and the sexual exploitation of women; about our patriarchal society where women are often treated as a ‘sex toy’, not a human being. Unlike many, I don’t compare Manto with DH Lawrence, because Manto is not lustful, even though he explicitly writes about the female anatomy. He’s more like Guy de Maupassant, who sees the throbbing heart, not the sensuous body, of the prostitute.

Manto blames the ‘diseased mind’ for reading ‘ribaldry’ into his stories. If a sex maniac derives morbid gratification from Venus De Milo, should we blame Alexandros of Antioch for chiselling such a ‘graphic’ sculpture? No, certainly not.

For contemporary literary pundits, Manto was also unacceptable because he wrote ‘indecent’ language. “They [the critics] criticise me when my characters verbally abuse one another – but why don’t they criticise their society instead where hundreds of thousands of profanities are hurled on the streets, every day,” he wonders.

I also love Manto because he was honest. He was an unflinchingly true writer who believed in calling a spade a spade. Sketch-writing was introduced as a genre in Urdu literature much earlier, but Manto created his own peculiar tell-all style. He didn’t write only the good qualities of his characters. “In my bathroom, everyone is naked. I don’t clothe them because it’s the tailor’s job,” he writes.

Manto’s sketches, which he initially wrote for the Lahore-based Daily Afaq newspaper, were later collected and published as Ganjay Farishtay. Manto wasn’t a hypocrite. He minced no words while writing about his dead friends. “I curse a thousand times a so-called civilised society where a man’s character is cleansed of all its ills and tagged as ‘May-God-Bless Him’,” Manto wrote in Ganjay Farishtay. Manto wrote sketches of filmstars Ashok Kumar, Shyam, Noor Jahan, literary figures such as Meera Ji, Agha Hashar and Ismat Chughtai and some politicians. “I have no camera that could have washed smallpox marks off the face of Agha Hashar or change obscenities uttered by him in his flowery style.”

Before embarking on his literary career, Manto had read Russian, French and English masters like Chekhov, Gorky, Victor Hugo, de Maupassant and Oscar Wilde and translated some of their works into Urdu. Surprisingly enough, despite his love for revolutionaries, Manto was not a Marxist ideologue. He was a humanist who was pained to see social injustices, economic disparities and exploitation of the underprivileged. He hated the obscurantist clergy and parasitic elites alike.

Although Manto had migrated to Pakistan after 1947, he couldn’t understand the rationale of partitioning a land along religious lines. His stories of bloodshed and cross-border migration, such as Teetwaal Ka Kutta and Toba Tek Singh, made him unpopular with ‘patriotic’ Pakistanis. To this day he remains a shadowy figure on the official literary lists of Pakistan: our school curricula, our national awards, our drawing room conversations.

Manto was acknowledged as a creative genius even by his detractors. And he knew this, which is perhaps why he wanted these words to mark his grave: “Here lies Saadat Hasan Manto and with him lie all the secrets and mysteries of the art of short story writing. Under tons of earth he lies, still wondering who among the two is the greater short story writer: he or God.”

Manto’s family feared his self-written epitaph would attract the unwanted attention of the ignorantly religious, so on his grave one finds a Ghalib couplet. He faced censorship all his life and even now has chunks of his stories taken out by the authorities. But as we mark his centenary year, I can say this with the instant certainty I felt as a young man in Haripur: the words and stories of Saadat Hasan Manto will outlive us all.

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Gauhar Raza: Giving Poetry the Power to Protest

The Kashmir Monitor



By Asheesh Mamgain

If things were different his poems would have been different, or maybe he would not have been a poet at all. But things are what they are. And that is why Gauhar Raza, the poet is writing, and it is why he writes his poetry of protest.

“Maybe I would have written about love, the beauty of nature and science. But as things stand my poetry is predominantly about resistance and protest,” said Raza, who is faithful to the tradition of resistance poetry to the extent that he has throttled, without much difficulty, the romantic and the scientist in him. “The need to write poetry always arose when something happened around me which affected me, to the core. I have never written and will never write poetry just for the sake of it.”


“The murder of Safdar Hashmi, the breaking up of the Soviet Union, the demolition of the Babri Masjid, the killing of an activist in Afghanistan, the death of Rohith Vemula are some of those things,” he said.

Raza’s second published collection of ghazals and nazms (71 in all) came out in November 2017 and is titled Khamoshi, or Silence.

Is there a lot of anger in his poems? Yes, there is definitely a lot of anger. But then there is also hope. That is where Raza becomes special.

“For me, a poem that merely complains or rants about the injustice, violence and persecution happening all around is not enough. A poet has to go beyond this; he has to give a vision. The vision of an alternative world, of a better world. Only then will his poetry be successful and meaningful. A poet has to show the consciousness he wants to bring into society.”

So how does he define good poetry? “Well, a good poem should be able to raise the level of the reader at least one notch higher, and also give him a fresh perspective about the aspect being dealt in the poem. Something new to dwell upon,” said Raza.

The influences that shaped his poetic thought came pretty early, at home and at the Aligarh Muslim University where he studied. Raza’s father, Wizarat Hussain, worked in the education department there and was a second-generation Leftist.

“The question about the existence of God came up very early in my life and soon I became an atheist for life,” said Raza. Literature was read with passion at home and by the time he was 15 he had read all the Urdu literature available at the AMU library as well as a solid portion of Russian literature.

“During my growing years, Leftist thought had a major presence in the university. On the other hand, the fundamental forces were also steadily getting stronger. I was smitten by the leftist idea. I was part of a literary study circle, we served tea at the secret meetings of leftist groups and listened to discussions at home between my father and other intellectuals such as Irfan Habib and Iqtidar Alam Khan.”

There was a lot of churning in his mind and soon he started pouring the remnants of all that into his poems. When it comes to poetry some of Raza’s major influences have been Ghalib, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Sahir Ludhianvi. He is often seen reciting their work at length during his various lectures, with Sahir Ludhianvi’s long poem ‘Parchhaiyan’ or Shadows one of his favourites.

“Writing the kind of poetry I do is not easy. Each time a write a poem I must relive all the pain and emotion I went through when the particular incident happened that forced me to write. All those disturbing images come rushing back to me. It is a difficult thing to undergo.”

Nor is poetry Raza’s only means of reaching the people. He recently retired as chief scientist from the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research. He is also into documentary filmmaking, his documentaries on Bhagat Singh and the 2002 Gujarat genocide being very well known.

Where does poetry stand today, as a means of communication with the reader? According to Raza, “for one, social media has helped. It has helped poets reach a wider audience. Also, the tradition of musharias and kavi sammelans (poetry meets) is still very strong in India. So even if a poet is competing with the multimedia world, it is easy to reach one’s audience with one’s poetry, provided you have something pertinent to say.”

More broadly speaking, however, “I have to say that things have progressed in a disturbing direction. A poem I wrote 20 years ago, I could rededicate it to Rohith Vemula and then to Gauri Lankesh. This disturbing trend is seen all over the world. I believe that the fall of the USSR has been a major turning point in the way our World has evolved.”

A few lines from one of his poems brings out his concern and struggle.

Mein phool khilata hoon jab bhi,
Woh baad e khizan le aate hain,
Mein geet sunata hoon jab bhi,
Yeh aag se ji bahlate hain.

Whenever I make a flower blossom
They bring the autumn wind
Whenever I sing a song
They give the soul succour with flame.

But Raza is still hopeful. “There has been a resurgence of resistance poetry in Urdu in the recent past. The trend of religious poetry in Urdu has also reduced in recent times. The youth today has become more involved in this attempt to bring a positive change. I have seen young people reading protest poetry and reacting to it. Once again universities have become a place of resistance and struggle for change.”

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