Ghosts of the boots
by Chandan Mitra
 

Ghosts of the boots not listening to the talks'. This was Javed Jafri's delightfully comic translation of the popular Hindi saying Laathon ke bhoot, baaton se nehi maante. Last Thursday, as I watched one Mohd Aslam alias Bhure wax eloquent before TV cameras denouncing Leader of the Opposition LK Advani out of frustration at the Supreme Court having rejected his review petition, I thought of the two Big B's of Indian politics - Bofors and Babri - that simply refuse to go away.

On a personal note, my 24 years in journalism have revolved almost exclusively around B's. First it was Bluestar, which happened within a few months of my joining The Statesman in 1984 and, in turn, led me to extensively report on Punjab till terrorism was finally snuffed out by KPS Gill in 1993. Then it was the opening of the lock at the "dilapidated, disputed structure" (Mr Advani's succinct phrase) on February 1, 1986, which preceded a whole range of tumultuous happenings since. The third big event of the decade began with Swedish Radio breaking news of the Bofors scandal on the very day I shifted back to Delhi to join The Times of India.

In recent weeks, the "bhoot" of Bofors has returned with a bang. Ottavio Quattrocchi's plans of a quiet holiday in an exclusive Argentinean resort have gone up in smoke; he has been forced to spend his money (hard earned or ill-gotten, depending on whether you are a 10 Janpath supporter or critic) to indefinitely extend his stay in that country.

The CBI's quarter-hearted efforts to get him deported may come to naught, but expect a huge outcry when the agency finally concedes defeat. Similarly, I don't expect the Byzantine legal maze of the Babri demolition case to get resolved in my lifetime. Every few months, it crops up like the proverbial bad penny, engulfing even a generation that was too young to understand what happened at Ayodhya on that fateful Sunday (December 6) afternoon nearly 15 years ago.

Aslam Bhure's resurfacing on TV last Thursday could only induce a sense of déjà vu. I had quite forgotten what the congenital litigant on the Babri issue, looks like. He is so nondescript that unless his less-than-handsome visage is shown everyday by the media, anybody can be excused for not remembering him.

Watching him volubly allege that Mr Advani misused his position as Deputy Prime Minister in the NDA Government could only invite ridicule. If that were indeed true, the case(s) would have been wound up conclusively long ago. But I could see Aslam Bhure's disappointment at being told by the apex court to go back to Rai Bareli and start all over again. That will, of course, keep him in the news for some more years, but a mere Magistrate's Court cannot ensure the publicity that appearing before the highest seat of the judiciary can give.

I also wondered who finances Aslam Bhure's myriad legal adventures. You would too, if you saw him. I don't want to sound snobbish or elitist by suggesting that those who proactively approach the Supreme Court should not only possess, but also be seen to possess, sufficient resources. But, equally, anybody who is familiar with how much it costs to hire lawyers, pay court fees, get thousands of pages photocopied and incur massive sundry expenses, would agree that a man of indigent appearance seems incapable of spending so much money.

To just give you an idea of what it takes to fight a case in a High Court (far less expensive than the Supreme Court): The Pioneer has already spent upwards of Rs 10 lakh defending a defamation case lodged against us in Srinagar, and the matter is nowhere near conclusion. A similar amount has been spent warding off a slew of cases in various district courts in Andhra Pradesh and that matter too may take years to get over. But Aslam Bhure seems to have all the money to incessantly lodge petitions at courts in Rai Bareli, Lucknow and Delhi. Looks must be deceptive: He, surely, is a very resourceful man!

Babri was, in fact, very much in the headlines the whole of last week, thanks to a typically arrogant remark by the head of the Congress Party's babalog brigade - heir-apparent Rahul Gandhi. Decades ago, I was witness to a rowdy reception for his grandmother at Kolkata airport. It was just after the Emergency, she had been dislodged from power but, the doughty fighter she was, Indira Gandhi toured the entire country charging up the unruly Youth Congress. Awaiting her arrival inside the airport building, they raised lusty slogans including one that has stuck in my mind: "Desh ka neta Indira Gandhi, Yuva ka neta Sanjay Gandhi, Bachchon ka neta Priyanka Gandhi, Baalon ka neta Rahul Gandhi". Her grandchildren were toddlers then, Sanjay was alive but his son Varun wasn't born and nobody thought Rajiv would ever come into politics.

Looking back, the slogan appears prophetic. Rahul Gandhi is not only an accepted leader and MP today, he has also acquired the right to interpret contemporary history. We have no option but to take him seriously even if he makes grievous (even if politically convenient) historical slips.

Thus, he nonchalantly overlooked the opening of the Babri lock and the hugely hyped shilanyas. Rahul Gandhi also did not choose to recall that his father commenced the 1989 election campaign from Ayodhya, promising Ramrajya! Older readers may recall that it was during that speech that he used the famous expression "Hum jeetenge ya loosenge".

But in all fairness, I must admit I was an admirer of Rajiv Gandhi for his transparency (which, in retrospect, sometimes bordered on naïveté), his vision for 21st Century India, a phrase he first used at an election rally at Jagdishpur that I covered, and his healthy disregard for conventional politics that occasionally resulted in dangerous adventurism. However, to suggest that had a Gandhi family member been "active" in politics, the Babri Masjid would not have fallen, is stretching credulity to the ultimate. What the claim does to the status of Narasimha Rao - one of India's most quietly efficient prime ministers - is another matter.

That's the problem of invoking 'ifs and buts' of history, as I learnt many years ago. Would we have had a Bofors scandal had a member of the Gandhi family not been active in politics? Can I conclusively say, 'No'? Would one-third of Jammu and Kashmir be under Pakistani occupation or the Emergency happened had a member of the Nehru-Gandhi family not been active in politics? Can there be a definite yes or no answer to this? But then, some political mysteries never die; their ghosts keep hovering over us for decades, maybe centuries. In contemporary India, Bofors and Babri have an engaging quality about them.

I am certain this is not the last I have written on either subject.

Courtesy: www.dailypioneer.com, March 25, 2007