Politics, War And Yes Love!
By Aakanksha Mohan Sharma
Countercurrents.org
Politicians love politics. Love for politics results into conflicts. Conflicts results into wars. Violence, killings, and destruction happen in wars. There is one more thing which happens in wars- LOVE. There are many forms of love which happen in politics and wars. The first one to talk about is jingoism. Well, these are not only policy makers and men with guns at borders in the trap of this love but countless others also. Media often shows it’s over whelming “love” with policies. Media’s love for getting trapped into this love is not exceptional. Coverage of Iraq’s invasion and bombing of Afghanistan shows that the government’s capacity to overwhelm the means of communication is truly awesome. Media is at consensus with officials at the helm of affairs.
Recently, Indian media reported about an avalanche in Kashmir which killed few Indian security officials and injured few of them when it made an Army training camp its target. They covered it in details but they forgot to report about the teenagers who got killed allegedly by Indian security forces in the same week. Earlier this week Wamiq Farooq was hit by a tear gas shell in his head when police was throwing tear gas shells on the protestors. Zahid Farooq also fed to death by a gun shot when he was playing cricket. Another teenager named as Inayat khan was also killed in such incident in the same week.
Killings of these teenagers could be dramatic breaking news if these killing would have happened in some other part of the country. But it got just one minute coverage in the era of 24/7 news channels. The Kashmir’s story is a prime example in this league of state lead journalism. This is not the first time police bullets killed innocent civilians but it has been happening since an armed insurgency broke against Indian administration twenty two years ago which hardly gets any coverage in national media.
Well, everything is fair in love and war. Though there are many who do not agree with benett’s indexing hypothesis but there is a fair degree of relevance of his indexing hypothesis in defining relationship between media and policies. . According to Gregory Nokes, a former correspondent with the associated press, the administration dominates the national news agenda “about 70 percent of the time. It determines when something becomes news, and how long it stays in the news.”
Well, much of this love which brings out hatred. There is another love which happens in wars and conflicts. Love which makes moon looks bigger, birds singing when actually they are just doing their daily routine, breeze flowing in rhythms, music becomes more musical, and even stars seems like falling from a blazing sky when actually they are the meteors heading towards earth. Every thing becomes beautiful when one gets trapped into this form of love.
A real life Romeo and Juliet story happened recently in Middle East with a Palestinian- Israeli twist. The boy was from Gaza and the girl lived in the West Bank. They communicated though internet and political problems prevented them to meet each other. So, this modern day Juliet travelled through dangerous tunnels to Egypt where she met her Romeo for the first time and they went to Gaza to marry. He saw her first time covered with sand all over head to toes.
One of my Hungarian friends told me about a play which she had watched about Romeo and Juliet in Budapest. It was about an Israeli Romeo and Palestinian Juliet. This time they weren’t the families on the opposition but the religion, culture and nationalities took the place. They didn’t die in the end as in the classic Romantic epic but they regained consciousness after consuming poison. She looked at as the solution for the political problem between Israel and Palestine. She thought that even they need to regain humanism and love for each other in solving their political problems.
There was another famous play “Palestinian Romeo and Israeli Juliet produced in 1990’s which talked about love in war.
In the same league is a docu- drama, “In fair Palestine- Romeo and Juliet” acted, directed and produced by the Palestinian high school students in Ramallah. It gives a picture of life of young people in Palestine.
Even in this production by young Palestinians, the Romeo and Juliet did consume poison but didn’t die in the end. Here, Romeo does not hear of Juliet's faked death because a messenger sent to bring him the news is stopped at an Israeli checkpoint.
There is a famous real life love story with American- Iraqi twist. The American soldier left Army to wed his Iraqi love who was a doctor. So, love do happens amidst all the bombs and destruction and so do the politics happen and so the do the war.
The trailer of this docu drama produced by young Palestinians high school students is for all those who are in love with love in the month of Love…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkGSGlpwUyw
Monday, May 17, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
AN APOLOGY TO MY GRAND CHILDREN!
I vividly remember my Grand mother telling me her childhood tales. Her fascinating tales always made me speculate curiously about her being a kid. They always made her eyes moist though repeating it every night. Her childhood was all about fields, cattle, ponds, and rural adventures in Pakistan of Undivided India. I used to relate every cow with one of her cows who was her favorite of all her cattle’s. “She was the most beautiful cow in whole village. Her grace, conduct, and affection made her so distinct from everybody. She was my favorite and I was hers.” She used to tell this with a spark and an excitement of a kid in her senile eyes. I didn’t have any cow except those wandering on roads. I wanted to go near them but was so scared and told my Grandmother that they scare me when I go near. She said, “They are not yours. That’s why.” Now, I wanted to have one and asked my parents to get one for me. They ignored it and told me that there is an ailing cow near by and I can visit her. My parents too had similar stories to share about their childhood and teenage. Their life with fields and animals made my childhood full of these adventures. I started visiting this cow with a cousin. I touched a cow for first time in my life. She started recognizing us after a week and I patting her with ease. She passed away after a month leaving us cow less all over again. Now, I could easily understand the moisture in my Grandmother eyes when she used to remember her dear cow.
I am an owner of many cows today. White gives white milk, pink one gives strawberry milk, and brown one chocolate milk. And, I can own as many as I want and they will never die. So, no moisture in eyes! I too have fields now though not huge like my other friends as I have lesser neighbors but still I can grow any crop of my choice. I get a satisfaction when I grow a crop and harvest them. I feel happy when number of cows and hens increases in their shed and coop. My parents know only about eggs which they used to get in their farms but I get mystery eggs and they too in different colors every time.
Today, my farming world is virtual contrary to my childhood. And, I am happy with this virtual farm as I believe in intentions. It gives me a joy of doing some thing what my grandmother used to do. I am not sorry for my self but I am sorry for my grand children. I am sorry that I would have virtual tales to tell them about my farms and animals. Some times, I wonder would my senile eyes get moist when telling them my virtual tales! But I feel a sense of satisfaction when I see children of next generation of my own family telling me that I am too old fashioned and i don't know how to use machines. I feel sorry for kids of kids of this generation because they would not be able to understand the moisture in eyes.. I am sorry for the generations coming ahead..
Aakanksha
I vividly remember my Grand mother telling me her childhood tales. Her fascinating tales always made me speculate curiously about her being a kid. They always made her eyes moist though repeating it every night. Her childhood was all about fields, cattle, ponds, and rural adventures in Pakistan of Undivided India. I used to relate every cow with one of her cows who was her favorite of all her cattle’s. “She was the most beautiful cow in whole village. Her grace, conduct, and affection made her so distinct from everybody. She was my favorite and I was hers.” She used to tell this with a spark and an excitement of a kid in her senile eyes. I didn’t have any cow except those wandering on roads. I wanted to go near them but was so scared and told my Grandmother that they scare me when I go near. She said, “They are not yours. That’s why.” Now, I wanted to have one and asked my parents to get one for me. They ignored it and told me that there is an ailing cow near by and I can visit her. My parents too had similar stories to share about their childhood and teenage. Their life with fields and animals made my childhood full of these adventures. I started visiting this cow with a cousin. I touched a cow for first time in my life. She started recognizing us after a week and I patting her with ease. She passed away after a month leaving us cow less all over again. Now, I could easily understand the moisture in my Grandmother eyes when she used to remember her dear cow.
I am an owner of many cows today. White gives white milk, pink one gives strawberry milk, and brown one chocolate milk. And, I can own as many as I want and they will never die. So, no moisture in eyes! I too have fields now though not huge like my other friends as I have lesser neighbors but still I can grow any crop of my choice. I get a satisfaction when I grow a crop and harvest them. I feel happy when number of cows and hens increases in their shed and coop. My parents know only about eggs which they used to get in their farms but I get mystery eggs and they too in different colors every time.
Today, my farming world is virtual contrary to my childhood. And, I am happy with this virtual farm as I believe in intentions. It gives me a joy of doing some thing what my grandmother used to do. I am not sorry for my self but I am sorry for my grand children. I am sorry that I would have virtual tales to tell them about my farms and animals. Some times, I wonder would my senile eyes get moist when telling them my virtual tales! But I feel a sense of satisfaction when I see children of next generation of my own family telling me that I am too old fashioned and i don't know how to use machines. I feel sorry for kids of kids of this generation because they would not be able to understand the moisture in eyes.. I am sorry for the generations coming ahead..
Aakanksha
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Is It A Time For Integration?
By Aakanksha Mohan Sharma
06 December, 2009
Countercurrents.org
I was waiting for a taxi in a cold winter evening at queen's way priory stop in Birmingham city. The taxi driver called me. It was no doubt a British voice, an absolute British accent. The man on the phone asked, "Can you see me now?" I said, "No, I can see a taxi but I can not see you." He said, "Well, the man you are looking at is me" I asked, "Are you an Asian?" He said, "No, I am a British." Then after a pause he said, "Well, I am a British Asian."
After few moments I was in the taxi on the way to sally oak, a twenty minutes journey. "You said that you are a British when I asked you on phone!" I asked with curiosity. He said, "Yes, I am a British. However, my parents are Asian. They are from Pakistan." I said, "So originally you are a Pakistani." He looked into the mirror and said, "I am a British national and would not like to label myself a Pakistani. I was born and brought up here only. I do not like the heat. I love the breeze and rain all over the year. My family and friends are here. I love my home island."
After a brief silence, he told me that he could not speak his native language. "I visited my parent's home place last year. It is Mirpur in Pakistani administered Kashmir. It was tough for me to communicate with the people there. They laughed and said what would you do if these white people throw you out from their country one day?" I said, "Why would any body throw me out of my own country? I have a British Passport and I enjoy my life as any other British citizen." I said, "It means you feel more comfortable with English people than Asians?" He kept quiet for a while. He broke his silence with a word- "Paki." He said, "Some times they call me Paki.I was working in a company last year. They used to refer me as 'that Paki boy'. I do not like it. When they give me their citizenship, why do they call me by such names? However, it is fine. It is everywhere. It's not an issue I think."
He told me that he has some other issues with his identity. He said, "I am not originally a Pakistani. I belong to Azad Kashmir and as far as I know, it makes me a Kashmiri more than a Pakistani. I have never seen Indian Kashmir and do not know much about them. However, I know that there is a line of control, which divides people from both sides of Kashmir. That is stupid to divide people like this. Moreover, I know that India and Pakistan have fought four wars for this region. I do not know how the people who live on either side of Kashmir justify with their identities. I do not know much about Asian politics but I feel if they solve this most of their problems would be automatically solved." He asked me curiously, "What do people from Indian Kashmir call themselves- Indian, Indian Kashmiri, or just Kashmiri?" I said, "you can ask your self."
I told him that the friend whom i am visiting belongs to Indian administered Kashmir. We reached sally oak. I could see my friend waiting out side her home. He asked her what you call yourself. "She said, "I am a Kashmiri." He asked her again, "Indian Kashmiri?" She said, "No, I am just a Kashmiri." He asked her, "What Passport do you have?" She said, "Indian." She added hastily, "Well, I am a south Asian." He smiled, looked at me and said, "Isn't it better for me to be just a British rather than getting into a never ending confusion?"
This twenty- minute journey showed me the chaotic picture of Indian sub continent- An Imbroglio of identities, borders, citizenship, human relationships, politics. Kashmir is one of the most volatile territorial disputes of south Asia. The parties to the dispute are India, Pakistan, China, and People of Kashmir. India claims Kashmir as an integral part of India. Pakistan and China claims it to be a disputed territory. People of Kashmir are waiting from 6 decades to decide their destiny. Present distribution of land area controlled by India, Pakistan, and China is as 45.62 per cent, 35.15 per cent, and 19.23 per cent respectively.
I thought is looking towards European Union an answer to the problem? Is it a time for integration for sub continent? His taxi disappeared after a minute and this twenty-minute conversation ended with out any solution. Just as our political elites who never come with a solution do not matter, the conversation was for twenty minutes or for twenty years.
By Aakanksha Mohan Sharma
06 December, 2009
Countercurrents.org
I was waiting for a taxi in a cold winter evening at queen's way priory stop in Birmingham city. The taxi driver called me. It was no doubt a British voice, an absolute British accent. The man on the phone asked, "Can you see me now?" I said, "No, I can see a taxi but I can not see you." He said, "Well, the man you are looking at is me" I asked, "Are you an Asian?" He said, "No, I am a British." Then after a pause he said, "Well, I am a British Asian."
After few moments I was in the taxi on the way to sally oak, a twenty minutes journey. "You said that you are a British when I asked you on phone!" I asked with curiosity. He said, "Yes, I am a British. However, my parents are Asian. They are from Pakistan." I said, "So originally you are a Pakistani." He looked into the mirror and said, "I am a British national and would not like to label myself a Pakistani. I was born and brought up here only. I do not like the heat. I love the breeze and rain all over the year. My family and friends are here. I love my home island."
After a brief silence, he told me that he could not speak his native language. "I visited my parent's home place last year. It is Mirpur in Pakistani administered Kashmir. It was tough for me to communicate with the people there. They laughed and said what would you do if these white people throw you out from their country one day?" I said, "Why would any body throw me out of my own country? I have a British Passport and I enjoy my life as any other British citizen." I said, "It means you feel more comfortable with English people than Asians?" He kept quiet for a while. He broke his silence with a word- "Paki." He said, "Some times they call me Paki.I was working in a company last year. They used to refer me as 'that Paki boy'. I do not like it. When they give me their citizenship, why do they call me by such names? However, it is fine. It is everywhere. It's not an issue I think."
He told me that he has some other issues with his identity. He said, "I am not originally a Pakistani. I belong to Azad Kashmir and as far as I know, it makes me a Kashmiri more than a Pakistani. I have never seen Indian Kashmir and do not know much about them. However, I know that there is a line of control, which divides people from both sides of Kashmir. That is stupid to divide people like this. Moreover, I know that India and Pakistan have fought four wars for this region. I do not know how the people who live on either side of Kashmir justify with their identities. I do not know much about Asian politics but I feel if they solve this most of their problems would be automatically solved." He asked me curiously, "What do people from Indian Kashmir call themselves- Indian, Indian Kashmiri, or just Kashmiri?" I said, "you can ask your self."
I told him that the friend whom i am visiting belongs to Indian administered Kashmir. We reached sally oak. I could see my friend waiting out side her home. He asked her what you call yourself. "She said, "I am a Kashmiri." He asked her again, "Indian Kashmiri?" She said, "No, I am just a Kashmiri." He asked her, "What Passport do you have?" She said, "Indian." She added hastily, "Well, I am a south Asian." He smiled, looked at me and said, "Isn't it better for me to be just a British rather than getting into a never ending confusion?"
This twenty- minute journey showed me the chaotic picture of Indian sub continent- An Imbroglio of identities, borders, citizenship, human relationships, politics. Kashmir is one of the most volatile territorial disputes of south Asia. The parties to the dispute are India, Pakistan, China, and People of Kashmir. India claims Kashmir as an integral part of India. Pakistan and China claims it to be a disputed territory. People of Kashmir are waiting from 6 decades to decide their destiny. Present distribution of land area controlled by India, Pakistan, and China is as 45.62 per cent, 35.15 per cent, and 19.23 per cent respectively.
I thought is looking towards European Union an answer to the problem? Is it a time for integration for sub continent? His taxi disappeared after a minute and this twenty-minute conversation ended with out any solution. Just as our political elites who never come with a solution do not matter, the conversation was for twenty minutes or for twenty years.
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