May 29 2009:
Today’s English-language newspapers report a front-page story that suggests the extent of intellectual fraud emanating from our capital-city’s English-speaking elite may be unending and limitless and uncontrollable (and this Delhi-based elite has spread itself to other places in the country too).
Such may be a source of our ridiculous politics, paralleled by the corruption in organized business in both public and private sectors. Delhi was perhaps the wrong place to which to move India’s capital one hundred years ago; the geography was such that it made ordinary survival hard or at least highly stressful, and when you have a capital-city in which the elite have to work so hard all the time merely to remain within the city-limits, it was inevitable perhaps that truthfulness and honesty would become major casualties.
The Government of Pakistan is said to be due to release its initial report on the involvement of Pakistanis in the Mumbai massacres. It is reportedly expected that the G o P will partly if not mainly or wholly attribute responsibility for the planning of the massacres to expatriate Pakistanis in other countries, perhaps in Europe and Britain. If so, a fact the Government of India might find prudent to recall is that the Government of Pakistan in bygone decades did deny citizenship to Rahmat Ali himself (who invented the acronym “P, A, K, I, S, T, A, N” ) and even deported him back to Britain from where he had carried out his vituperative and bigoted campaign against Hindus.
Rahmat Ali’s British grave has become a site of pilgrimage for expatriate Pakistani extremists and his ignorant hate-filled ideology from the 1930s has been inspiring their modern manifestos. I said this in an article published in Karachi’s Dawn newspaper in 2005, which also pointed to Iqbal and Jinnah’s disdain for Rahmat Ali’s views (see “Iqbal and Jinnah vs Rahmat Ali” republished here). American nationals and British subjects of Pakistani origin inspired by Rahmat Ali’s ghost are spreading theories of Pakistani territorial expansionism at the cost of the destruction of the Indian Republic and many other countries.
The fact that at one such website recently I myself, presumably because of my Hindu name and Indian nationality, have been referred to as a “monkey- or donkey-worshipper” 😀 may speak to the somewhat rabid nature of such ideologies. (Drat! And there I was expecting some elementary Pakistani courtesy and acknowledgment let alone gratitude for having created, at great personal cost at an American university twenty years ago, the volume with WE James titled Foundations of Pakistan’s Political Economy: Towards an Agenda for the 1990s with its mundane chapters on agriculture, macroeconomics, education etc!)
Incidentally, British newspapers are reporting today that America’s CIA has been deeply concerned about British subjects of Pakistani origin being a source of international terrorism. It may be pertinent to recall that terrorism in India’s Punjab had much support among numerous Sikh expatriates and immigrants in North America and Britain, and the same kind of thing may be true of Tamil expatriates from Sri Lanka. Being isolated and alienated as immigrants in a foreign country may lead to psychological conditions that contribute to such phenomena, whereby political and other events in the faraway country-of-origin take on exaggerated proportions in an individual’s mental make-up. Certainly Rahmat Ali himself was a rather tragic lonely figure who wasted his own potential to properly contribute to Pakistan’s political history through his own self-blinding hatred of Hindus.
Fable of the Fox, the Farmer, and the Would-Be Tailors
In the Land of Milk and Honey, there was once a great shortage of Tailors. So the King called for Tailors from all other Lands to come, and they would be each paid the princely sum of forty gold ducats for their work…
A Fox who lived in the Land of Stones and Dust heard of this. In the Land of Stones and Dust, people were hardworking but were mostly poor and destitute. If they worked hard all year, they could manage to keep only a half or maybe one ducat of gold. The Fox had an idea. Maybe he could start sending people to be Tailors in the Land of Milk and Honey. So he called a big gathering of the people and said: “People of the Land of Stones and Dust! I want to make you wealthy. All year long you toil and make only a few ducats under the blazing sun! I will make you into Tailors and send you within a few short weeks to the cool and lovely Land of Milk and Honey! Do you know how much a Tailor makes there? Forty gold ducats in a year! Think of that! You and your family will live in the lap of luxury!“ There was a sigh of disbelief mixed with happiness in the crowd at the mention of such an unearthly large sum of money. Nobody, not even the richest, could earn such amounts here, which mere Tailors could make over there! None of the people had been to the Land of Milk and Honey but they had heard many stories of its riches before.
“Come right up, sign right here, sign right here!” said the Fox, and many people crowded to sign on. “It will cost you a couple of ducats, just a couple, that’s all, and we will soon have you off to the Land of Milk and Honey where forty gold ducats are yours for the taking! Isn’t that something?!” When he mentioned the two ducats they had to pay, a lot of people stopped. “But how can we pay so much, you know that in our country we only earn a pittance every year; two ducats are beyond our reach, it means our life’s savings!” “Come now my friends,” said the Fox, “what kind of spirit is that? Can’t you see that soon within a few short weeks you will be in the Land of Milk and Honey, and as a Tailor you will be making forty ducats, now isn’t that truly a princely sum the likes of which you’ve never seen? Think about that! You are being asked to contribute a little something to that goal, what’s one or two ducats here and there, think of your future! If you don’t have the two ducats in your pocket, sell a few things you don’t need, even your house for soon you will be on your way to the Land of Milk and Honey!”
The Fox spoke so persuasively and with such a kind voice and generosity in his eyes that as many as one hundred and sixty people sold their belongings, and each confidently put two ducats into the Fox’s hands. The three hundred and twenty gold ducats brought tears of joy to the Fox as he counted them; this could become such a pleasant activity he thought to himself!
But now, he thought, I have a problem; the King of the Land of Milk and Honey has asked for Tailors, and these people I have are all woodcutters, weavers and candlestick-makers. Somehow, I have to make them all Tailors. Let me go to my friend the Farmer, maybe he can teach them some tailoring for a few ducats!
The Old Farmer listened to the Fox’s offer with increasing anticipation. He had always liked a good sum of money in hand though he was careful not to show it by any ostentation. He had many mouths to feed, and besides if something was left over he would like to visit the Land of Milk and Honey just once himself with all his family. “Certainly, my good friend,” he told the Fox, “give me the money and soon I’ll make tailors out of these people. Oh what fun we shall have together!” The fact he was a farmer and not a tailor himself or that he had never been to the Land of Milk and Honey and knew nothing about it did not seem to bother him. He was a man who felt he knew the substance of almost all the subjects under the sun beneath which he had toiled. Why, even on the subject of tailoring in the Land of Milk and Honey, he had an opinion or two which he felt to be surely among the very best. Besides, he said to himself, what he knew not himself he would rely on his many friends and relatives to provide. So he brought together his wife, who did some sewing, and a cousin who had once cut cloth for a coat, and three nephews who were apprenticed to a weaver, and two of his nieces who were supposed to knit wool so fast that it was said they could make a whole blanket in half a day, as well as a few trusted friends here and there, including one who had once been a tailor’s apprentice many years ago but had not succeeded because of his poor eyesight.
And the Fox brought all the Would-be Tailors to the Old Farmer, who put them all in a room with his kith and kin so they could be taught their skills every day and night for some weeks. A Traveller happened to pass through and find this in progress. “But will this help these woodcutters, weavers and candlestick-makers to become Tailors?” he innocently asked the Old Farmer. The Old Farmer made no reply. Instead, in the deep of night when the Traveller slept, the Farmer and the Fox arranged to have the hapless fool’s throat cut and then threw his body into the sea.
When the Would-Be Tailors came out of the room into the sunlight, the Fox had ships ready for them at the harbour to take them to the Land of Milk and Honey. He bundled them on board, and almost before they could say their farewells to their loved ones, the ships were quickly on their way. “But are we Tailors now?” shouted one from the decks. “What?”, the Fox said over all the noise, “are you Tailors now? Yes, yes, of course you are Tailors, what else do you think you are, don’t worry about anything, you are Tailors all right, you are just what they want in the Land of Milk and Honey, work hard now, and all the best to you, good luck!”
Alas, it was not to be. Some of the Would-Be Tailors never reached as their ships sank en route. Others reached but could not find work or were killed by the locals in the Land of Milk and Honey or were sent in slave ships back to the Land of Stones and Dust. A few Would-Be Tailors did manage to stay on somehow and per chance learned to become tailors and earn a modest living, but they too yearned for their homes and families and even the hot sun of their own Land of Stones and Dust. As for the Fox and the Old Farmer, life went on nicely enough, as they went from town to town speaking to people about the glories and riches that awaited them in the cool and lovely Land of Milk and Honey, and many crowds gathered to hear them everywhere they went.
Moral: Do not interfere with people when they are making money (or, for that matter, when they are eating, or making love).