Leaks, lies and videotape

Documents leaked last night from the police investigation contradict almost everything the London cops have said about the de Menezes shooting (thanks, Vijay). The current London shoot-to-kill policy now seems like a loose cannon.

The docs say that de Menezes was captured on tape walking into the tube station at a normal pace, picking up a free newspaper, using a tube card to enter and only breaking into a jog at the platform to catch a train. He was wearing a lightweight blue denim jacket (see photo) and was not carrying a backpack. Before getting onto the tube, he took a leisurely, 15-minute bus ride from his apartment to the station, not noticing that he was being tailed by cops. He did not look at all South Asian. Witness statements corroborate the tape.

It’s not clear whether the cops even identified themselves to de Menezes and warned him not to enter the tube. If the leaked docs are accurate, it appears that the only reason the cops killed him is that he emerged from the wrong apartment building. But it’s easy to understand the mistake:

The documents… suggest that the intelligence operation may have been botched because an officer watching a flat… was “relieving himself”. [Link]

One officer reportedly said he “checked the photographs” and “thought it would be worth someone else having a look”. However, he was unable to video the man for subsequent confirmation because he was “relieving” himself at the time. [Link]

Smells like a coverup. What it all means for people with brown skin living under an ill-defined shoot-to-kill policy:

“… he was just unfortunate to be living in a block of flats that was under surveillance and to look slightly brown-skinned…” [Link]

Be careful out there. Details below. Continue reading

Cloak and dagger: London, Istanbul, Bose

The disappearance of Indian revolutionary Subhash Chandra Bose has always been shrouded in Amelia Earhart-like mystery. Adding to the intrigue, a history professor from Ireland just reported that British intelligence planned on assassinating Bose in Istanbul (via arZan):

The British Foreign Office had in March 1941 ordered the assassination of freedom revolutionary Subhash Chandra Bose after his escape from house arrest in Kolkata, an Irish scholar said. Eunan O’Halpin of Trinity College, Dublin, made the stunning revelation on Sunday evening while delivering the Sisir Kumar Bose lecture at the Netaji Research Bureau.

A history professor, O’Halpin said the British Special Operation Executive’s plan to assassinate Bose, popularly known as “Netaji” (the leader), on his way to Germany was foiled as he changed his route and went via Russia.

O’Halpin said he had handed over the classified documents backing this to Krishna Bose, a former MP and wife of Netaji’s nephew Sisir Bose… Netaji’s relative Sugato Bose, a professor of history in the Harvard University, said he had already informed Prime Minister Manmohan Singh about the matter. [Link]

O’Halpin said the British Special Operation Executive (SOE) (formed in 1940 to carry out sabotage and underground activities) informed its representatives in Istanbul and Cairo that Bose was thought to be travelling from Afghanistan to Germany via Iran, Iraq and Turkey. The orders had come from London.

“They were asked to wire about the arrangements made for his assassination. Even in the midst of war, this was a remarkable instruction. Bose had definitely planned a rebellion to free India, but the usual punishment for this was prosecution or detention, not an assassination. He was to die because he had a large following in India… If British agents could get close enough to kill him, they surely could have attempted to capture him. The fact that any trace of London’s orders to assassinate Bose remains in official records is just as striking.” [Link]

Related posts: 1, 2

Update: The Beeb has more:

Describing the decision as “extraordinary, unusual and rare”, Mr O’Halpin said the British took Bose “much more seriously than many thought… Historians working on the subject tell me the plan to liquidate Bose has few parallels. It appears to be a last desperate measure against someone who had thrown the Empire in complete panic.”

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New Bombay airport terminal

India’s airport modernization rolls into Bombay with a spanking-new domestic terminal at Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport, designed by an Indian architect, no less (via Etcetera):

The new aluminium and glass-fronted terminal will house the operations of all major private domestic carriers and will cater to seven million passengers a year.

From July 28, all private airlines such as Jet Airways, Air Sahara, Spice Jet and Air Deccan will move into the upgraded building.

The two-phase upgradation of the domestic terminal costs Rs. 83 crores [~$19M, or $~60M PPP]. Construction on the second phase, which is expected to start once this new terminal is in operation, will take four months. [Link]

With new carriers coming in, the terminus needed major expansion… Mumbai airport, said Kumar, was the first and 30 airports were likely to will follow this pattern… the revamped portion of the terminal building has an all-new look: Aluminum composite panels, a glass roof, a skylight, a 1,575-sq metre pillarless check-in area, 38 check-in counters and a 1,651-sq metre security hold. [Link]

This is the first time I’ve seen reports about Indian buildings paying attention to handicapped accessibility:

Facilities for disabled persons, including ramps and toilets [Link]

Desis immediately begin enjoying the national sport of caviling

More than 12 hours after the revamped Terminal 1B was opened… while it sports a swish international feel, with wide open, naturally-lit spaces and a thought-out design effort — the quality of the experience is some way from being truly world class. At the end of a rushed schedule to get the facility ready in time, the entrance has three men perched on bars, painting them white… ”Looks like they’re still building it. The signboards for toilets are not up yet and there are no food counters…” [Link]

See photos of the new terminal.

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Chinese Idol

Earlier we posted about how prayers have been outsourced to India. Now Indian priests have even found subcontractors (via India Uncut):

After toys and dolls, communist China — where there are strict curbs on religious practice — has flooded Indian markets with images of Hindu gods and goddesses. And the religious-minded are bowing before their superior quality.

“Containers are landing in Mumbai by the dozens every month. Not a single idol goes unsold; there’s a mad scramble for them. I’m struggling to cope with the demand,” said Balwant Singh, who runs a gift shop in Mohali. “The buyers come and ask for images of different gods and goddesses, but will accept only those made in China. Not many buy Indian-made idols now.”

What makes the Chinese idols so attractive? “Their finish is excellent. They are made of synthetic material and are very colourful,” said another gift shop owner in Chandigarh, Inder Kumar Sethi. “The customer would take one look at a Chinese idol and immediately settle for it… There is also more variety in these idols… They are unbreakable and can be washed. The Indian ones are heavier and not as well polished. Their shelf-life is very short but the price is cheap.” [Link]

As Clayton Krishnasen might say, only the high end is safe from this market disruption:

For the moment, though, Kumartuli with its heavy, custom-made idols seems safe enough. [Link]

You know which god the communists churn out? Lakshmi, goddess of wealth. Amit Varma wisecracks:

And you know what they’re made of? Irony. [Link]

I leave you with the hilarious lyrics to ‘Plastic Vishnu,’ a banjo song:

Plastic Vishnu, plastic Vishnu
Riding on the dashboard of my car:
Ride with me and you’ll be safer,
You needn’t bother with any wafer
Bow to Plastic Vishnu, in my car…

If I run over little old ladies
And the police think I might have rabies
They’ll never find my hashish, though they ask;
plastic Vishnu shelters me,
For His head comes off, you see —
He’s hollow, and I use Him for my stash…

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Fifty-eight years

‘… the highest ideals of the human race: satyam shivam sundaram.’

Subhash Chandra Bose

‘A new star rises, the star of freedom in the East… May the star never set and that hope never be betrayed…

‘The ambition of the greatest men of our generation has been to wipe every tear from every eye.  … so long as there are tears and suffering, so long our work will not be over…

‘… no nation can be great whose people are narrow in thought or in action… All of us, to whatever religion we may belong, are equally the children of India.’

Jawaharlal Nehru

‘… even as regards Muslims you have Pathans, Punjabis, Shias, Sunnis and so on and among the Hindus you have Brahmins, Vaishnavas, Khatris, also Bengalis, Madrasis, and so on… Indeed, if you ask me this has been the biggest hindrance in the way of India to attain the freedom and independence and but for this we would have been free people long, long ago. No power can hold another nation, and specially a nation of 400 million souls in subjection; nobody could have conquered you, and even if it had happened, nobody could have continued its hold on you for any length of time but for this.

‘Therefore, we must learn a lesson from this. You are free; you are free to go to your temples. You are free to go to your mosques or to any other places of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any region or caste or creed — that has nothing to do with the business of the State.’

Mohammed Ali Jinnah

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The Prophecy

William Dalrymple, author of White Mughals, predicts that second-gen authors will eventually supersede authors like Rushdie and dominate prizes like the Booker (via Verbal Privilege). The Chosen One will Arise. It’s music to my ears:

It is not just that the diaspora tail is wagging the Indian dog. As far as the A-list is concerned, the diaspora tail is the dog…

As far as writing in English is concerned, not one of the Indian literary A-list actually lives in India, except Roy, and she seems to have given up writing fiction… I suspect that in the years ahead the main competition Indian writers aspiring to win the Booker will face will not be the Alan Hollinghursts or the AS Byatts, so much as their own cousins born and brought up in the west…

In Britain during the last four or five years, the waves have been made less by authors from south Asia, or even from the immediate south Asian diaspora, as much as British-born Asian writers such as Nadeem Aslam or Meera Syal, and particularly what Rushdie might call “chutnified” authors of mixed ethnic backgrounds who are, in Zadie Smith’s famous formulation, “children with first and last names on a direct collision course. Names that secrete within them mass exodus, cramped boats and planes, cold arrivals, medical checks”…

When he was in Delhi last summer launching Transmission, Kunzru surprised many Indian interviewers by emphasising that he was a British author, not an Indian one… “What I and Zadie are doing is British writing about British hybridity. It is a completely separate story to that strand of writing which is about Indian-born writers going somewhere else.”

It’s the mirror image of how I feel left out of the pop culture scene in India: movies, songs, premieres, the gossip when Parveen Babi died. The desi population here is like angels on the head of a pin relative to the heft of the subcontinent. And yet we’re natives in American and UK English. Our books will not be mangotarian:

Rushdie vigorously resisted all attempts to constrain the Hindi words in his novels within italics; Roy was also very brave in this respect, making it quite clear that she would not obey her foreign editors’ injunctions to explain Indian words: Updike didn’t explain baseball for an Indian audience, she said, and she was damned if she was going to explain the ways of Kerala to a Manhattan audience – they could take it or leave it. Other, newer writers, however, have had less leverage to resist such pressure and one often comes across tell-tale passages in Indian novels in English that explain, for example, that dal is a confection of lentils fried in garlic…

… the market in India itself, while growing fast, is still tiny: most books sell less than 1,000 copies and even 5,000 copies can make you a bestseller; therefore to make a living as an Indian writer in English you have to crack the British and American markets…

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Blessed review: mangal ho

The NYT smiles upon Mangal Pandey: The Rising:

“Mangal Pandey: The Rising” … [has] important messages about global trade, corruption and martyrdom… the film takes you somewhere, teaches you something and inspires smiles in a way that few retellings of the anti-imperialist revolts of 19th-century India ever have before…

The crux of the epic is Mangal’s on-again, off-again alliance with a Glaswegian military officer who is in the employ of the East India Company… They both comprehend the fraud that the mercantile class perpetrates, and they both abhor the bigoted ugliness embodied in one British soldier who indulges in prostitutes and lies about it in polite company, who uses the power he has over servants to unleash some deep-seated cruelty…

At times, the racial hatred seems rabid and cartoonish, the political discussions of the opium trade become preachy, and the romance feels more like a cause for dance-offs… But the movie meets its grand incongruous aims with the exaggerated smiles and scowls of two gifted principal actors.

The camera drinks in gorgeous landscapes and trawls through high-end bordellos… [Pandey’s] biography is the basis for this spectacle of splash and meaning… “Mangal Pandey” proves that warfare mixed with winking sexpots can be a bloody good show. [Link]

I enjoyed the movie, will post a review later. The Friday late show in Times Square was completely sold out. Lines of dejected buskers tried to buy spare tickets off showgoers. The last time I saw that was with Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, and never before in Manhattan.

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Finding her match

Some time ago we posted about a young woman, Pia Awal, who needed a bone marrow donor to fight her leukemia. A 20-year-old Pakistani woman from London matched and saved her life.

Awal and her fiancé, Apratim Dutta, just had their long-delayed wedding. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through in the meantime. The NYT reports:

On June 30, 2002, Mr. Dutta’s 31st birthday, Ms. Awal was feeling feverish and bone tired. They went to the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan, expecting that she would be given some antibiotics for the flu… she was found to have acute myelogenous leukemia…

… weeks before their July engagement party, Ms. Awal’s doctor said the leukemia had returned… Mr. Dutta began searching for a South Asian donor whose white blood cells were a genetic match for Ms. Awal. He started a Web site, matchpia.org, to find donors. He made a DVD about Ms. Awal’s situation and tried to get television stations to broadcast it. Finally, through an international donor registry, they found a match in a 20-year-old Pakistani woman living in London.

Mr. Dutta, who loves steaks and red wine, began to eat vegetarian meals with Ms. Awal… As part of her recovery this time, she started eating meat, which gave her the sense of being fully fused with Mr. Dutta…

They were finally married on July 30 in Manhattan at the Tribeca Rooftop… Ms. Awal, who cannot have children because she has had so much chemotherapy, is working on a children’s book about cancer.

Congrats to the newlywed couple.

Click here to add yourself to the South Asian bone marrow registry. There are several booths at India Day parades in the next ten days. In NYC, go to 27th & Madison on Sunday, Aug. 21, from 12-6pm for a simple, painless blood test.

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‘I’m brown… and messin’ with your head’

Some desi guy posted a hilarious rant to Craigslist on dealing with suspicious looks from fellow passengers while riding the DC metro (thanks, midnight toker):

… after the London subway bombings, i have been getting “the look” on public transportation and at airports. To put it mildly, my days of picking up girls on a plane are over…

I don’t have an accent, a dot or a large cobra wrapped around my head (except on Tuesdays). I’m your typical poser hipster Indian living in DC, trying to get my hands on as much smoke, beer and ass as i can. But step on the metro… and suddenly i transform into Allah-kazam bin Laden…

… open your book bag at least 3 times. As soon as you reach for the bag, look at their reactions. Kodak moments all over the place.

My dream is to go on a plane, act crazy suspicious… basically inviting some white folk to beat the shit out of me. Then when they open my bags, it will be full of Bibles and medicine for sick children. Then i’ll sue all the muthafuckers and go live on some island with all my money and broken bones. Now that’s the American dream.

… i gotta deal with this bullshit everyday on the metro… It’s not even a cool subway like NYC or in Paris. The lame ass DC metro.

The DC metro reminds me of BART. The New York subway is to DC’s what a fastback is to a station wagon: it isn’t wide and cushy, but it’s a hell of a lot faster.

Read the whole thing. See Anna’s related post here.

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