| Mohan Shrestha |
Posted
on 12-Mar-02 11:07 AM
ISI-mark Nationality
VIDYA SUBRAHMANIAM
[ TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2002 12:11:35 AM ]
AST week I went to Nepal — without a ticket or a permit, and indeed, without intending to go to the beauteous Himalayan kingdom. The cross-border trek happened in the course of my travel to Siddharthnagar to cover elections in Uttar Pradesh.
Siddharthnagar is quintessentially UP, steeped in poverty, rubble in place of roads, phones that exasperate, shops bare but for essentials, and seedy lodges the only places to stay in.
The mud-track leading into the district was worse than bumpy; it was a roller-coaster. From the glitter of 21st century Delhi, Siddharthnagar is like boarding a time-machine to an era when the Internet and cellphones were still a fantasy.
I was chasing a story about the growth of madrassas on the Indo-Nepal border. Official circles in Delhi and Lucknow buzzed with talk of shady, anti-national activity in these madrassas, aided — and no prizes for guessing this — by crafty ISI operatives.
A colleague in Lucknow advised utmost care, as I was travelling to dangerous, "ISI territory". One madrassa, the Al-Jamait-ul-Islamiya, had, in fact, hit the headlines last year for harbouring ‘student militancy’ and preaching ‘hatred’ against the Indian state.
So, off I went, to the tiny hamlet of Tilkhana, in search of the Islamiya madrassa. It was imposing enough, but of shadowy ISI operatives there was not the slightest sign.
Disappointed, I went into the nearby Muslim basti, only to find that ‘ISI’, ‘SIMI’ and ‘terrorism’ were words that made no sense to them. The only terror they understood was that of poverty.
Undeterred, I went to the police headquarters, where I was told that the actual story was in Nepal. "There is a madrassa bang on the border", one official said. Intent on catching a piece of the action, I asked my driver to take me to the border.
And then my imagination took off: There I was in Nepal, surrounded by magnificent snow-capped peaks. The madrassa itself was tucked away on a remote hillock, so prying eyes wouldn’t catch any of the cloak and dagger goings-on.
Then my driver woke me up: "Madamji, woh dekho Nepal". "Where"? I asked, unable to spot even one snow-capped peak. "You see that shop with the lighted bulb, that is Nepal. The madrassa you’re looking for, that’s right next to it".
"Goodness, no", I said in disbelief. Nepal was 10 feet away. There was busy to and fro pedestrian traffic, which a lone constable happily ignored. I hesitantly followed the crowd into what assuredly was Nepal, and found myself in a mini shopping plaza, untidy but brightly lit, in sharp contrast to the poverty-stricken, power-starved Indian side.
The dreaded madrassa turned out to be a cheerful place and its managers affable: "So, you’ve come looking for the ISI".
Indian customers thronged the shops and for obvious reasons — they overflowed with dirt cheap imported white goods.
As the clock struck eight, the shopkeepers, mostly Indians with Nepali passports, downed the shutters, saying "Emergency laga hai, saab". I looked across at ‘Big Brother’ India.
It was drowned in darkness, but yes, election slogans rent the air, showing that our democracy was alive and well.
Walking back, my driver said: "You are now in the ‘No Man’s Land’ between India and Nepal". I looked alternately at both countries and wondered what territory was all about.
source: TOI
http: Link : http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow.asp?art_id=2100804&sType=1
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