National

A Time-Bomb In Eternal City

The temple town is torn by bomb lasts. Right now, a communal flare-up is under check. But as politicians hover for prey, can it be kept that way? <a href=pti_coverage.asp?gid=50 target=_blank> Updates</a>

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A Time-Bomb In Eternal City
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Varanasi, the holy city that has survived concerted attempts to make it a communal hotspot, had recovered its composure. Just Tuesday evening, it had seen a terror attack on the Sankatmochan temple that killed 28 people, including the priest and participants at an ongoing wedding. Another explosion killed 10 at the nearby Varanasi cantonment railway station. Further casualties were prevented because bombs discovered at other spots were defused in time. As high-impact terrorism goes, these were clearly designed to set light to the communal tinderbox. Akshardham, Raghunath temple, Ayodhya...this had the potential to be symbolically the most potent—a strike in India’s very heartland.

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The police were quick to blame it on the Lashkar-e-Toiba. Within hours, a top LeT operative was gunned down in Lucknow. A video recording of the wedding at the temple now forms crucial evidence.

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It did not take long for the Sangh parivar activists to troop in. At the Shri Shivprasad Gupta Mandaliya Hospital, a cavalcade of cars carrying VHP chief Ashok Singhal and his co-activists speeds out as we drive in. Young VHP workers lean out of the window, shouting a slogan of which one catches the last bit—"...khoon nahin pani hain. Jai Shri Ram". Inside the hospital, as at the Benares Hindu University’s Sir Sunderlal Hospital, the wards with the victims of the blasts are filled with relatives, doctors—and those familiar men in khaki shorts: the RSS is out in full strength. At the BHU hospital, Hari Prasad Buddhiya, the father of the young woman whose wedding ceremonies in the Sankatmochan temple were so rudely interrupted, talks of the failure of the administration that destroyed what should have been one of the happiest days of his life.

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Standing a few feet away is Dr Sukhdev Tripathi, a teacher in the Sanskrit Mahavidyalaya, and a senior RSS activist: "This terrorist attack is the result of the Congress’s and Samajawadi Party’s politics of appeasement. The atmosphere here is surcharged. Another Gujarat could happen here." He adds that when chief minister Mulayam Singh Yadav saw the RSS presence in the hospitals, he asked a senior police officer to clear the place but that the patients insisted they stay. He also claims that RSS pracharaks reached the spot within minutes of the first victims arriving in the hospital. But BHU teachers say it was the students who arrived first to donate blood and rush to the local chemists to procure medicines that were being provided free.

It was only after Congress president Sonia Gandhi arrived late on March 7 night, accompanied by Union home minister Shivraj Patil, that the other political parties and outfits began to feel the need to make their presence felt as well. In fact, the competition soon became fierce. For the hard-pressed doctors at the hospitals, the procession of VVIPs who followed Sonia Gandhi—Mulayam Singh Yadav, bsp leader Mayawati, a battery of BJP leaders which included president Rajnath Singh, Kesari Nath Tripathi and Vinay Katiyar apart from VHP chief Ashok Singhal—was an unnecessary distraction as were the many TV crews that muscled their way into wards. At the BHU hospital, a doctor who had been working round the clock since the incident, said: "These VVIP visits make life very difficult. And it is hard to maintain sterility with so many TV crews. But if we complain, then we will be at the receiving end."

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In sharp contrast to the life and death scenes at the hospitals where many patients lie critical in intensive care units—the youngest victim was a one-year-old infant called Shivangi—is the calm at the Sankatmochan temple. Less than half a day after the incident, the devotees are back, offering prayers to Hanuman to chants of Har Har Mahadev, as curious tourists and journalists look at the remains of the wedding of Hari Prasad Buddhiya’s daughter. A dog sniffs at the used patta plates and empty plastic cups, stray chappals and shoes lie on their side, testimony to the confusion as wedding guests ran helter skelter. But the average Benarasi is a picture of serenity: Sushila Mishra, a housewife, who visits the temple almost everyday, says, "Varanasi is a muktikshetra—people here come to die. If you die here, you are liberated—Shankar bhagwan himself comes and whispers the mantra in your ear."

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In the Muslim-dominated Madanpura area, life goes on as near-normal. Little boys play cricket and men gossip at street corners. But all the shop shutters are down. No, not as a response to the call given by the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, the locals stress, but as an expression of solidarity by the Muslim shopkeepers with Hindus.

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It all sounds a little unreal after the scenes in the hospitals—but this is the story that the TV channels have been putting out, of a resilient city that has bounced back. How true is that picture? At BHU, Priyankar Upadhyaya, professor of peace studies, says, "As far as conflict resolution is concerned, it is better that the TV channels project a positive image of Varanasi, which is not entirely untrue, rather than the way local Hindi newspapers helped to communalise the situation in the early 1990s in UP, but this is in the short run. In the long run, a far more critical analysis is required, people’s sensibilities need to be studied, because beneath the surface other things are also at play."

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Upadhyaya’s warnings are not without basis. In Muslim localities, wealthy or poor, there is a deep sense of disquiet. Javed Ansari, a well-to-do carpet maker, says he hopes the peace will last—after the murder of BJP MLA Krishnanand Rai a few months ago in Mau, a Hindu mob tried to attack his home, believing he was related to the main accused who shares his last name—Mukhtar Ansari. In Madanpura, Haji Mohammed Mobbin, a sari polisher, says, "No Muslim considers terrorism to be Islamic. But people label us all as terrorists."

As Holi, a big festival on the city calendar, draws near, there are fears in the Muslim community. The last few months have seen an increase in Hindu-Muslim tension in neighbouring districts. Last Dussehra, Mau saw an age-old tradition go awry: usually, the Bharat Milap procession stops at a mosque and moves on after hitting its iron gates three times. Similarly, the Moharram procession resumes after stopping at Sanskrit Pathshala and climbing its three steps. On October 13, 2005, this peaceful ritual turned violent. About half a dozen people were killed and many were injured. That was the turning point. UP CM Mulayam Singh Yadav accepted the incident as "a blot on his government". The stain spread on March 7, when terror moved to Varanasi.

Worse, the period between Dussehra and Holi has not been quiet for UP. For some time now, the state had been facing communal unrest. Even the state capital Lucknow was not spared from riots. Known for its remarkable history of communal harmony, the city experienced its worst riots this year. Three people died during the first-ever serious Hindu-Muslim clashes in its history on March 3. "It was quite coincidental," Congress Legislative Party leader Pramod Tiwari exclaimed, "On February 2, SP MP Raj Babbar met the UP governor, handed over a few (Amar Singh) CDs and expressed his fear of communal violence in the state. Within 24 hours of that meeting the city was in the grip of communal tension and after 72 hours it spread to Varanasi!"

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Clearly, despite the surface harmony, it will take a while for the wounds to heal and for the people of Uttar Pradesh to begin believing their politicians again.

By Smita Gupta in Benares & Alka Pande in Lucknow

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