In a recent deposition before a trial court in Delhi over charges made out against him of a “criminal conspiracy” under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), Umar Khalid made a searing comment: “There is a target on somebody’s back. How to reach the target is the point of the chargesheet. You first decide who to catch and then reverse engineering takes place… a whole case is fabricated against them.”

Today, it is the Special Cell of the Delhi Police that is tasked to keep that target in their sights. He is their prize catch, symbolising the State’s adamantine resolve to keep a brilliant young Muslim with a gift for charismatic oratory, behind the bars of Tihar jail indefinitely. They have created an impossible situation for him. As Khalid told the court recently, “The deaths of 50 people during the riots are being investigated by 751 different FIRs.” 

The chargesheet confronting him and his cellmates accused of similar crimes is never-ending, stuffed with manufactured evidence and an incredibly long list of tutored witnesses. 

But long before this, in fact long before the Delhi violence, long before Umar Khalid’s supposedly incendiary speech made at Amravati, long before the passage of the Constitutional Amendment Act, 2019, and the outrage it provoked, particularly among young Muslims, Big Media had already marked him out as someone who stood for everything to which the Hindutva right-wing and the media they controlled was viscerally opposed.

The first time he burst into public notice was of course during that notorious show with Arnab Goswami, titled ‘Is it freedom of speech or sedition to speak language of separatists’ and conducted on February 11, 2016. Revisit that episode and you will spot a fresh-faced Umar, full of a naïve and smiling confidence that he could get the better of anchor Arnab Goswami, wearing the Mantle of the Nation draped over his ample shoulders. 

Umar tried to argue that hanging Afzal Guru violated the norms of a democratic state and that the ‘India ka barabdi’ slogan was not put out by JNU students. But Goswami was having none of that: the programme ended with Umar being labeled as “anti-national” and “India-hating”. He was told roundly: “You are more dangerous to this country than Maoists terrorists.”

The scenario being sketched was far, far bigger than anything Umar Khalid could have even imagined. Before long, doctored video footage showing him actually shouting slogans like ‘Bharat tere tukde honge’ appeared on Zee News and quickly made its way to others. It also gave rise to the phrase, “tukde tukde gang”, which has since been consistently deployed by Hindutva groups and their television channels to vilify dissenters and human rights defenders. 

Four years later, as northeast Delhi went up in flames in February 2020, the cry went up: Who is responsible? Delhi had just heard, during the communally fraught weeks of the elections that year, the hate speeches of Anurag Thakur and Parvesh Varma – now ministers in the Union and Delhi governments, respectively. In the immediate run up to the violence, it had witnessed the teeth-gnashing rage of a Ragini Tiwari and had clearly noted the words BJP leader Kapil Mishra addressed to the police by his side: “Clear the road in three days, or else…”.

But none of these individuals, protected by their patrons in high places, figured in the final chargesheet. Umar Khalid – it goes without saying – did, even though he was not even physically present in Delhi at that time. In September 2020, he was arrested and the notorious omnibus chargesheet – FIR 59/2020 – was presented before the Delhi high court for the first time in November 2020.

To ramp up the pressure; evergreen the vicious campaign again him; and draw an arc from the 2016 controversy to the Delhi violence, Arnab Goswami – now proprietor of Republic Television – brought out in October 22, the ‘Full Tukde Gang Files’.  A quick perusal of this material tells you not just how horrifyingly insidious was the campaign against Umar Khalid – he was now named “mastermind of the Delhi violence” – but how closely television channels had come to work with the Delhi Police and buttress its narrative. 

One senior editor with Republic Television almost gave the game away when he commented on the programme: “You have a document in which the police very graphically marshals the evidence collected over a period of time and presents it to court to point out why Umar Khalid should not come out of jail given the scale of the conspiracy and the riots that were executed…” 

Is it the job of a television channel to ensure that a prisoner remains incarcerated? Really?

‘Full Tukde Gang Files’ is an insult to our intelligence. It claims that Umar Khalid – and his “team” – were responsible for every single thing that has gone wrong in the capital city since 2016. The one thing we do realise clearly, however, after listening to it are the extraordinary efforts and collusions that have gone into ensuring that Umar Khalid remains in jail, no matter the arrant injustice of it, the immense human costs and the wanton destruction of a young life. What it also does, besides, is to reduce India to the status of a banana republic.

You can almost imagine that you are reading lines from T.S. Eliot’s eponymous poem, on Macavity, the Mystery Cat, as you listen to the video:

“And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!”

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Vital message from Nepal

In late August, I ran into Nepal’s veteran journalist, Kanak Mani Dixit and his wife Shanta, at the Constitution Club, Delhi. We had just listened to a public hearing on the mass expulsions of Muslims in Assam. During our brief interaction, Dixit observed, “After listening to what is going on in India; after what happened in Bangladesh and Sri Lanka and knowing the volatile situation in Pakistan, I will say this: Nepal is the only country in South Asia that is stable.” Within a few days, on September 8, this assessment was upended by developments that one of Nepal’s more astute observers did not see coming as the Himalayan state of 30 million was hit by a youth-created landslide of epic proportions.

Yet for others who have been following the buzz emanating from Nepal’s social media scene, something had been clearly brewing. The outrage against the plutocratic K.P. Sharma Oli dispensation had touched fever pitch, according to Geeta Seshu of Free Speech Collective, and September 9 had been marked as the day of action. The assessment in Delhi seemed to have been that Nepal’s civil society was upset about the regime’s move to impose a social media ban and therefore rebelled. The reality may have been the other way around. Oli, with all the instincts of a true authoritarian, panicked over the strident criticism of  his regime among Nepal’s most articulate cohort, GenZ, and rushed unwisely to ban 26 social media entities, including the big five Facebook, Insta, WhatsApp, X and YouTube.

Like all authoritarian governments around the world, the regime thought that taking aim at the messenger may be enough to douse the flames being fanned by Gen Z (that term, incidentally, is an etymological curiosity since the ‘Z’ in it conforms to the American pronunciation, defying the strictly British rules of grammar and pronunciation prevalent in this part of the world). 

But to get back to Oli’s social media ban, it was driven by the frustration that these tech companies had apparently failed to submit to the government oversight regime.

India too, let us not forget, had attempted to push the “submission to government oversight” trope through its PIB misadventure, until the Bombay high court stopped the process in its tracks.

Within hours of the ban being announced, half of Nepal was on the streets. The disturbing reality it signaled is that powerful tech companies on Wall Street have today come to acquire more power over ordinary people than their governments. But it is also true that authoritarian governments, arrogant enough to shut down the one major way in which people communicate, self-communicate, educate themselves, and grow their social, economic and political capital in today’s times, are living in cloud cuckoo land.  

Kathmandu lifted the ban quickly once the immense damage done came into the authoritarian’s line of vision. But by then it was too late – it was the government that got banned instead.

§

Son of Bihar

It is ironical and tragic that when Bihar goes to vote later this year, it will be bereft of the writing of one of its most eloquent documenters and analysts, Sankarshan Thakur. Very few amongst us understand this land better than Sankarshan did; more importantly very few could interpret the angst and driving passions of its 134 million people as well as he did. 

In his coverage of Bihar during the 2024 election, Sankarshan had sussed out through sheer foot power – talking to people across the board – that somewhere, Modi’s magic had waned. 

He wrote: “One of the most captivating aspects of the last two Lok Sabha elections in Bihar was the rapture of the voter with Narendra Modi…That rapture has either been sublimated to a degree that it doesn’t need to exhibit itself, or it has given.” There was, he saw, a “stunning absence stalking the battlefields of Bihar” in the summer of 2024 (‘Modi rapture missing: Bihar wonders what low-voltage PM campaign means’, The Telegraph, May 25, 2024).

Where has the rapture gone? Having established his central proposition, Sankarshan then fills in the details through sparkling little snippets of conversations he had with local people. While a Modi bhakt explains that “Modiji has now made home in the hearts and minds of Biharis”, so he doesn’t need to keep reiterating this. A Modi baiter (coining a twisted jab in a manner rather typical of Biharis): “Simpul. Jumla, jumla, jumla, sab jumla, no kaam, no kaaj, littil bit phree anaj.” 

Through the piece, the reader is given resonating glimpses of the Bihar landscapes: “The Ganga passes Patna on a latitudinal axis, arriving from the great ghats of Allahabad and Benaras and hurrying east to become part of the Bay of Bengal.” So effortless is this raconteur as we follow him down the river that we may be forgiven for imagining this is no dry newspaper report but the state itself whispering back its stories at you.

Every day brings more evidence that Sankarshan is deeply missed. Today, as I write this, it has been four days since his death, yet friends, colleagues, even acquaintances, seem reluctant to let him go. They continue to pour their thoughts and feelings into obituaries and remembrances – a never ending avalanche of words. These words have now become part of the legacy of a man who was never short of them.

PS:  I once asked him about his constant little mascot, a bejewelled owl, that he sported on his jacket lapel on a daily basis. Don’t remember if he answered my question but I did notice from the pieces of writing on him that I was not the only one intrigued by it. No one, however, seems to have solved the mystery of that wise little onlooker! 

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Readers write in…

Mr PM, is what Sarma is doing in Assam, empathy?

Wire reader, Santosh Kumar, while writing on Himanta Biswas Sharma, ends by recalling the legendary editor, Nihal Singh….

“On Monday, September 8, the 'Godi Mainstream' – though I would prefer to call them the Modi Media, dutifully carried a piece, of course ghost written, by our PM on the legendary lyricist-poet-singer-conscience keeper from Assam, Bhupen Hazarika. Those who couldn't carry it on their opinion pages did so on NEWS pages. One even carried a headline: ‘A tribute to Bhupen Da: his life teaches us the power of empathy, of listening to people.’ 

“Notice the hypocrisy so blatantly flaunted. In Assam, Modi's CM is bulldozing all those virtues Hazarika stood for in his lifetime: love, compassion, brotherhood, yes, empathy. Himanta Biswa Sarma is no longer an HMV, he is outdoing his master in spewing venom, haunting the minority population there day in and day out. He is turning Assam into a mini Gaza. And here the PM is apparently talking of empathy! If the editors of these publications had any empathy left, they would have said a curt 'NO' to the PM, let alone carry the article with a headline like that. Sadly that is not the case to be. They are literally rubbing salt into the wounds of readers. 

“We were told the story of S. Nihal Singh, legendary editor of that one-time great, now gone to the seed, newspaper, The Statesman, telling its newly-minted owner C.R. Irani, who had expressed his desire to write an opinion piece for the paper. The 'Letters to the Editor' column is open for you, Nihal Singh reportedly told Irani. That Irani got rid of Nihal Singh is another matter altogether, but in today's India, where are editors like Nihal Singh?”

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Life in the capital city!

A Wire reader, who prefers to remain anonymous, sent us this assessment on their corner of the city…

“I write to you as an anonymous resident of Uttam Nagar, New Delhi, raising alarm about ground realities that starkly contrast with the city’s proclaimed status as India’s “$4 trillion economy, Vishwaguru, and the 4th-largest GDP capital.”

“In my neighborhood: Roads are completely ruined – muddy, broken, and dangerous. 

Garbage is piled across gullies and streets, with no sanitation in sight. Illegal liquor (desi daru) is sold openly in almost every alley. Illegal kothas (sex rackets) operate openly.

“Local police and authorities – including Delhi Police and MCD – are corrupt and accept bribes, allowing lawlessness to continue unchecked. It feels like no government body is enforcing the law – not Delhi Police, not MCD, not anyone. 

“I request your respected publication to conduct an investigative ground report from Uttam Nagar and showcase the stark and unsettling reality of Delhi, beyond government narratives.

“Thank you for your fearless journalism.”

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How is this for speed, SIR?

Intriguing question from Laxman Ganapati…

Will the CEC share how long it takes to process a voter? A nanosecond? He is clearly far more efficient than DOGE under Musk to have trashed 65L voters in double quick time.

§

The heart of the matter

Last fortnight, this column carried a letter from Vidyadhar Gadgil, ‘Accessing The Wire’ (August 30) on the difficulties of opening The Wire website. Gadgil has very kindly done some research into this issue himself and informs us about it…

“Thank you, Ombudsperson, for having taken note of my complaint. I have been following up and talking to friends. What appears to be the case is that The Wire's website does not load if one is using a BSNL broadband connection. The same problem was confirmed by a few friends, who also use BSNL broadband. So maybe BSNL is doing the (probably illegal) blocking. With other ISPs there is no problem reported, and the website works fine. Hope this helps in getting to the bottom of the problem. Will update if I am able to get more information.”

My response: This is extremely disturbing if true. Thank you for getting to the heart of the issue.

END PIECE: Taming a beast like Google is as unlikely as getting the proverbial camel to step through the eye of the needle. As Joshua Benton put it in his September 3 commentary, writes, ‘The biggest antitrust case against Big Tech in decades turned out to be kind of a flop’:  “When a monopolist’s stock price goes up after a court announces its “remedies” — as Google’s just did — don’t expect radical change. “You don’t find someone guilty of robbing a bank and then sentence him to writing a thank you note for the loot.”

Write to ombudsperson@thewire.in

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