Author: K Govindan Kutty
Publication: The Pioneer
Date: January 9, 2006
Not all of PWG's terror put together has achieved
what one terrorist did by targeting IISc in Bangalore
The future or the antiquity of Bahubali's
statue or Edakkal's cave cannot be Mr Dharam Singh's and Mr Oommen Chandy's
immediate concerns. These enclaves of heritage do face threats of vandalism
or philistinism, but Mr Singh and Mr Chandy have other preoccupations.
The chief preoccupation is, naturally, with
their own survival, and their States' security. Politically, uncertainty has
been a certain fact of life for them, always. Not so security. They find their
States no longer secure. What is of some comfort is that Mr Rajashekhar Reddy
and Ms J Jayalalithaa, redoubtable leaders long used to physical as well as
political insecurity, share their fear. The myth of the southern security
stands blown, suddenly.
When terrorism raged in Jammu & Kashmir,
Punjab or Assam, when caste escalated in Bihar and atavistic passions exploded
elsewhere, when New Delhi seemed oppressively vulnerable, Mr Dharam Singh's
political forebears had an easy time. Karnataka has had its share of caste
violence, a social overlord occasionally thrusting down a Dalit's throat a
bread dipped in shit and so on, but it was never a dangerous place to live.
The danger is not so much that it happens now and then as the pervasive fear
that it may happen any time, even if it never does.
Kerala may be a restless State, student unrest
and labour unrest and every other kind of unrest being its political hallmark;
but it never became an insecure state. Time was when extremism had some votaries,
a landlord was done to death or a doctor put up for public trial or a busybody
got a note of abuse with two bones and skull inscribed in red on a crumpled
scrap of paper. That stopped no one's breath really. There was no fear, except
as a useful word employed for political rhetoric.
Andhra Pradesh, whose scions never tire of
harking back to the hoary struggles of Telengana and Communist braggadacio,
have had more exposure to violence. Even after Naxalism vapoured off in the
village after which it was named, it found practising advocates in Srikakulam
and Warangal and Karimnagar. Politicians and wheeler-dealers became sources
and targets of threats. But others remained largely unaffected. Not all of
PWG's annihilation attempts put together have achieved what one terrorist
did by choosing Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore as his killing joint.
Fear ensued like on no other occasion.
In spite of some Tamils becoming Tigers, Tamil
Nadu did not become a terror territory. In fact, several State leaders showed
a more than sneaking sympathy for terrorists of Sri Lanka. Some of them were
arraigned for a series of violent acts culminating in Rajiv Gandhi's assassination.
For many years, hostilities and friendships in national politics were predicated
by the perspectives on that spurt of violence. Yet, it did not generate a
psychosis of terror.
Things seem to change with religion-based
forces of trans-national terrorism coming into play. There was a frightening
coincidence about their recent operations in various southern towns. The false
threat to blow up Parliament House is traced to a cyber café in Tirunelveli.
Soon follows a terrorist treat in IISc, with simultaneous reports of threats
against hotels and software majors. It has been attributed to an Islamist
organisation, which revels in global terrorism in furtherance of its distorted
view of religion.
Hyderabad reports next day how a terrorist
operation targeting senior police officers was foiled. In an apparently unconnected
incident, explosives land up at a bus station in Kozhikode in huge quantities.
These gelatine sticks have been showing up in different places in Kerala off
and on for some time now. The trouble with it is that the State's level of
fireworks or fishing operations or quarries do not justify such huge movement
of explosives.
All this can be wished away as a coincidence.
By the same token, all this can be interpreted as indicators of the spread
of trans-national forces, which specialise in mindless violence to India's
southern parts. It is possible to see their orchestrated or unconnected acts
of terror as an achievement in disrupting what used to be felt as a comparative
southern calm. If nothing else, there is this growing fear of terror as a
southern commonalty.
The day after scientists were gunned down
in Bangalore, there was a profound revelation from the Chief Minister. It
was, he said, a terrorist operation. When gelatine sticks were seized from
a bus station in a northern town of Kerala, Chief Minister Chandy dispatched
his cops to look for links in Malappuram and Kodungallur. In sharp contrast
to this are his unabated exertions to get out, at least on parole, someone
facing prolonged trial in Coimbatore for a terrorist operation targeting senior
leaders but killing many ordinary men eight years ago. The Chief Minister
has, luckily, not been successful.
This is not to make light of their concern.
Making their States safe is indeed a prime concern of Mr Dharma Singh and
Mr Oommen Chandy right now. The other chiefs have had to be at it for some
years now. As for Mr Singh, he has to guard against those of his partymen
who keep gunning for him even after he has led the party to victory in panchayat
polls. There are many who are just ready to take his job. He has to be careful.
Mr Chandy has no such worries. He knows no one can oust him during the remaining
three months of his tenure. He also knows how decisive will then be his coalition's
rout.
When such thoughts of survival and security
govern their minds, they cannot be distracted by reports of threats to the
safety of Bahubali's 10th century statue at Shravanabelegola or the rock art
of Edakkal Caves in Wayanad dating back to 3,000 years or more. Monument protectors
have point out that cable cars to carry crowds of devotees to Bahubali atop
the hill can cause it an avoidable, perhaps unbearable, stress. But devotees
have to drop in on their deity, and they will. Chief Minister Singh can, or
likes to, do nothing about it.
Not merely the rock art of Edakkal but its
cave is also in some danger, as everyone said at a recent seminar. The tremors
of the adjoining quarries in the hill district, where wanton explosions go
on apace, can convulse this world heritage. But the quarries will keep exploding
because they give people jobs and contractors contracts.
Chief Minister Chandy may not be able to give
a thought to the weird graphics of an anonymous artist in such a distant past.
Thankfully, he has carved out a new department of environment and given a
new minister, someone more literate than most in Wayanad's ecology, its charge.
Nothing he does will save the coalition, but he can make some gestures in
support of a movement for the preservation of Wayanad's fragile heritage.