Communal Chief Ministers

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As the Goa CM, Manohar Parikkar, quits in order to join the Union Cabinet, an internecine fight has broken out in the Goa BJP over who is to succeed him. While the deputy chief minister is Francis D' Souza it is, however, fairly certain that Laxmikant Parsekar is to be the new chief minister.

Unsurprisingly, allegations of communalism are being floated about. Support for CMs also seem to be arranged along religious lines. This Economic Times report for example say that "D'Souza has the support of at least five catholic MLAs in BJP who would join with him if he rebels"[emphasis mine]

This situation is remarkably similar to an incident as described by Abul Kalam Azad in his biography, India Wins Freedom. The incidents pertains to the Congress choosing its CMs along communal lines after the 1937 provincial elections in Bombay state. This is an excerpt describing the Bombay incident:

One incident happened at the time which left a bad impression about the attitude of the Provincial Congress Committees. The Congress had grown as a national organization and given the opportunity of leadership to men of different communities. In Bombay, Mr Nariman was the acknowledged leader of the local Congress. When the question of forming the provincial Government arose, -there was general expectation that Mr Nariman would be asked to lead i t in view of his status and record. This was not however done. Sardar Patel and his colleagues did not like Nariman and the result was that Mr B. G. Kher became the first Chief Minister of Bombay. Since Nariman was a Parsee and Kher a Hindu, this led . to wide speculation that Nariman had been by-passed on communal grounds. Even if it is not true, it is difficult to disprove such an allegation.

As a result of his allegations, Nariman was expelled from the Congress party. However, as maybe a small consolation, Nariman Point--Bombay city's poshest piece of real estate--was name after him.

Bidesia in Kalkatta

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I came across this really cool swaang (a satrical folk show common across the heartland) ditty composed by immigrants to Jelepara, Calcutta at the beginning of the 20th century. Have a read:

Dil main ek bhaavna se Kalkatta main aaya
Kaisan kaisan maja ham heeya dekhne paaya
Ari Samaaj, Brahmaa Samaaj, girja, mahjid
Ek lota main milta doodh paani sab cheej
Chhota bara aadmi sab, baahar kar ke daant
Jhapat maar ke bolta hai, Angreji main baat

This reminded me of the documentary Bidesia in Bambai, which tracks Bhojpuri immigrants in Bombay and shows that in a century, little has changed. You can watch a trailer of the movie here:

Manto on Modi's Skull Cap Problem

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The controversy over caps, communalism, riots and Modi, reminded me of a passage from one of Saadat Hasan Manto's short stories. The story is titled, Bāteñ (Manto ke Mazāmīn) and desribes the violent communal riots that Bombay witnessed during the 1942 Quit India movement.

Hindu-Muslim fasād ke dinoñ ham log jab bāhar kisī kām se nikalte the to apne sāth do topiyāñ rakhte the: ek Hindu cap, dūsrī rūmī topī. Jab Musalmānoñ ke mohalle se guzarte to Rūmī topī pehen lete the, aur jab Hinduoñ ke mohalle meñ jāte the to Hindu cap laga lete the. Is fasād men ham logoñ ne Gandhi cap Kharīdī. Yeh ham jeb meñ rakh lete the, jahāñ kahīñ zarūrat mehsūs hotī thī, jhat se pehen lete the. Pehle mazhab sīnoñ meñ hotā thā, āj kal topīyoñ meñ hotā hai. Siyāsat bhi ab topīyoñ meñ chalī ā’ī hai—zindābād topīyāñ!

[Translation:

During the Hindu-Muslim riots, whenever we would step out of the house for some work, we would keep two caps with us: one Hindu cap and the other, a Rumi cap. When passing through a Muslim neighbourhood we’d wear the Rumi cap and when we went to a Hindu neighbourhood then we’d put on the Hindu cap. In these riots (of 1942), we’d also bought a Gandhi cap. This we’d put in our pockets and whenever we’d sense a need, we’d put it on in a jiffy. Earlier faith would reside in our hearts, nowadays it resides in caps. Even politics, it seems, resides in caps. Zindabad caps!]

The first thing to notice is how the Muslim stereotypical cap has changed from the Rumi topi (or fez) to the "skull cap" (a perfect example of how things get destroyed in translation; in Hindi-Urdu, it is simply called 'topi' or 'cap'). The Rumi topi was a marker of status worn largely by the traditional upper-classes. The modern crochet cap, which so alarmed Modi, is of course cheap, handy headgear to fulfil the religious needs of covering one's head during the namaz. The end of the Muslim upper-class in India in 1947, it seems, also spelt the end of the Rumi topi.

Of course, while the topis have changed, mindsets maybe haven't. While Modi was very careful in not being seen in a cap associated in the popular imagination with Muslims, he has displayed a startling penchant for other forms of headgear, to which we smile wryly, echo the seer Manto and shout: zindabad topiyan!