The geometry of contrasts

Thu, May 15 02:35 AM

The old city of Jaipur has a unique physical layout, emblematic of gentle order. But unlike many cities with neatly planned parallel streets, there is nothing monumental or contrived about this planned city. Quite the opposite: it suggested an intimacy that was never claustrophobic, as old cities can sometimes be. While traditional in its architecture, it facilitated that most vital of activities: commerce. It has reeled under the onslaught of the frenetic pace of activity that characterises so many Indian cities. The old city contained within it everything: the most bustling of religious activity, whether it be the Id namaz outside Johari Bazaar, or the astonishing array of temples; the fascination with the most worldly of possessions, gold and jewellery, alongside the most ardent symbols of renunciation, Jain temples; and it contained all that any modern city brings with change. The famous Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandar, near a blast site, had long since changed over from a font of traditional delicacies to a modern mass production outlet, leading some to wonder if Jaipur would retain its character. It had its share of social negotiations and hierarchies. But despite very occasional stresses, the city always triumphed, as if its layout would enjoin its citizens to believe that in the well-ordered city, there will be space for everyone. Its orderly pink structures were always there for an odd kind reassurance: no matter how bristling and chaotic the life of the city, order and grace were still always possible.

Alas, that reassurance has been irrevocably shattered by a series of bomb blasts, by an ideology that is the opposite of what the city stood for. The blasts are against commerce, against civic order, against aesthetic achievement, against sociability, against the idea that cities can be zones where we can overcome our vulnerabilities. But it is above all an attack against the state and people. An attack against the state, because it dares to say to the state: you claim to protect people, see what mockery we make of that claim. An attack against the people because it dares to say to them: we will take away the sense of security that is the precondition for the forms of sociability that make us a people. You thought this was a space where you would exchange goods, say your prayer, read your namaz, savour the delicacies, make a living, imagine other worlds through craft, fly your kites, shop to high heaven or even have the dignity of labouring, no matter how hard the work. You thought it were these quotidian activities that create the capillaries that connect us. Think again. The very site of these activities will now be the source of your vulnerability.

The lives that have been destroyed by this attack already constitute an immeasurable loss. But terrorism is not just after lives, it is after the idea of a normal life itself. In some ways an attack like this is a classic combination of nihilism and opportunism. It is nihilism, because it serves no political end but the idea of destruction itself. We can always surmise that there are accumulated grievances, forms of alienation, the desire for revenge of some real or imagined injury, that cause such mayhem. But truth be told, such surmises are more our attempt to hold on to a sense of reality. How can we make sense of this so-called political act, where no one claims responsibility, where the cause is unclear, where there is not even the attempt to claim minimal moral legitimation for the act just perpetrated?

Particular acts of terrorism may be explained, but there is no doubt that it has also acquired a sui generis character: it does not exist for any reason outside itself. Yes, we can say that its objective is to weaken India. But though this may be the case, this raises more questions than it answers. What politics of cowardice and resentment drives that objective? What is worrying in the Jaipur blasts is the fact that it must have taken more than a couple of people to put this operation together, to engineer blasts in quick succession. The fact that such an operation can be mounted with impunity ought to be worrying for security forces.

But it is not hard to discern an element of opportunism in the choice of targets. Rajasthan is going to elections, places like Chittor have had a simmering communal dispute. It would be otiose to deny that the delicate social equilibrium that Jaipur had crafted over decades has been fraying at the edges for a while. The terrorists are hoping, as they were elsewhere in Hyderabad and Varanasi and Ajmer, that Rajasthan might prove combustible material. Or it may have something to do with developments in the domestic politics of Pakistan, to strengthen the hands of those that do not want to give peace a chance. Or as is so much the case with terrorism, it may all be over-determined.

Civilians are terrorised precisely so that, under the pressure of responding to their outrage, the state commits sins of commission and omission. There is a danger that this issue will get politicised in the wrong sense of the term. It is high time that we created institutions, cutting across party lines that can interface with the state and security agencies so that a proper and shared understanding can be evolved of this menace. Our ability to tackle terrorism is not enhanced by a politics of grandstanding by any party. It requires a supple intelligence and clarity of purpose. The point of terrorism is that it wants to take our politics in certain directions. It is up to our political class to resist that temptation.

But Jaipur has, for the moment at least, become a symbol of our vulnerability, rather than an emblem of a safe civic life. The gates of Tripolia don't protect it, its famous squares, the chaupads, will not be the site of easy sociability for some time to come. It was Jaipur's unique fate that for a long time it had not really experienced any serious stress in the old city. But for now its intimate reassurance and bustle are gone. Jaipur was famous for having an MP whose sole claim to political fame was that he attended as many funerals in the city as he could. Yesterday, funerals were the only activity allowed in large parts of the city. But if Jaipur recovers the sense that its founders had, of a city as a civilising place, it will be the source of resistance to the new barbarians that sought to replace its geometry with chaos.

The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, Delhi

pratapbmehta@gmail.com

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