Shameless In Sikkim

The HC asked the green ministry to comply with the Environment Protection Act. Minister Veerappa Moily obliged and turned it into a joke.

Tehelka, 28 February, 2014


It was not the best of analogies. But it conveyed the helplessness of a section of the forest bureaucracy in the face of the minister’s brazen assurance. “Imagine asking Ravana to draw the Lakshman rekha. He would have right away kept Sita at grabbing distance,” rued an official at Paryavaran Bhavan, the seat of the  in New Delhi.
On 10 December 2013, hearing a writ petition against the Tashiding hydel project, the  High Court directed the MoEF to issue notifications demarcating eco-sensitive zones (ESZ) within two months in the state where a string of mega hydel projects are coming up close to wildlife parks and sanctuaries.
Under the Environmental Protection Act, 1986, an ESZ is a protective ring around a national park or sanctuary to safeguard the forests and wildlife from activities such as mining, dams and heavy, polluting industries.
In 2006, the Supreme Court had ruled in favour of 10-km-wide ESZs — unless the Centre and the state notified a different boundary based on scientific site-specific assessment — adding that any project within that periphery would require mandatory prior clearance from the standing committee of the National Board for Wildlife (NBWL).
On 2 February this year, the MoEF under  complied with the high court order. But making full use of the window of site-specific (forget the ‘scientific’ bit) discretion allowed by the apex court, it brought down the width of ’s ESZs from 10 km to 25-200 metres, freeing the contentious hydel projects from the NBWL’s scrutiny.
Each of the five notifications for Kyongnosla, Pangolakha, Singba Rhododendron and Fambonglho wildlife sanctuaries and the Khangchendzonga national park states that “setting up of new hydro-electric power plants (dams, tunneling, and construction of reservoir) and expansion of existing plants in the ESZ is prohibited” (except micro and mini projects to serve the energy needs of the local communities subject to consent from the gram sabha and other clearances).
But the ESZs themselves present an atrocious picture (see maps). For the Khangchendzonga national park and Kyongnosla sanctuary, it varies from 25-200 metres. For Pangolakha and Singba Rhododendron sanctuaries, the ESZ width is 25-50 metres. At Fambonglho, it is just 25 metres all around the sanctuary.
The IFS officer was livid: “Such (25-200 metres) distances mean absolutely nothing in ecological terms. Why not fix the Lakshman rekha (ESZ boundary) at zero metre and spare everyone the joke?”
Why has the MoEF under Moily resorted to such flagrant mockery of the law? Last year, the NBWL recommended a thorough probe into widespread violation of the SC order in, where a number of ongoing projects within 10 km of a national park or sanctuary did not even seek the mandatory wildlife clearance.
In May 2013, the NBWL sent a team to inspect the 520 MW Teesta IV project that had sought wildlife clearance. In its report to the MoEF in August, the team drew a parallel between some hydel projects of  and iron ore mines of Goa and quoted the Justice MB Shah Commission report to underline how “approvals have been granted… in the eco-sensitive zones without placing the project proposals before the NBWL”.
During its visit, the team found that two hydel projects — the 1,200 MW Teesta III near Khangchendzonga National Park and 96 MW Dik Chu next to Fambonglho wildlife sanctuary — were well under construction without seeking clearance from the NBWL.
In its report, the team concluded that “with the notable exception of the Teesta IV project, none of the other projects… appear to have sought/obtained this compulsory SC-NBWL clearance”. The state government and the project proponents probably decided to sidestep the NBWL after it refused clearance to the Lethang hydel project in October 2010.
After the devastating earthquake in 2011, the  government turned the rejection into a PR opportunity by claiming that it scrapped Lethang and five other projects due to seismic concerns.
It was beyond the scope of the NBWL team’s specific inspection mandate to ascertain the proximity of other proposed and ongoing hydel projects to sanctuaries and national parks. So, it asked the MoEF to probe the widespread violation of the SC order, suspend work on the illegal projects, and punish the guilty.
The MoEF, then headed by Jayanthi Natarajan, took more than a month to make the report public and sat on its recommendations. It was nudged into action last December when a division bench of the  HC comprising acting Chief Justice NK Jain and Justice SP Wangdi warned the ministry of contempt proceedings for delaying the ESZ notifications for almost a year and set a deadline.
Forced to deliver, the ministry under Moily decided to follow the letter of the law and kill its spirit.
To be fair,  cannot afford to have 10-km ESZs all over the state. On paper, 47.34 percent of the state is forested. ’s one national park and seven wildlife sanctuaries span 2,183 sq km or nearly 31 percent of the state. It is the only state to have increased its forest cover — even if much of the addition is monoculture plantations — in the past two decades and targets another 1,000 hectare during the 12th Plan period.
A standard 10-km protective ring for all eight ESZs would leave virtually no room in the state for heavy infrastructure development. For example, conservationists have pointed out in the past fortnight how the ESZ of the Kangchenjunga national park (KNP) fell far short of the larger Khangchendzonga Biosphere Reserve (KBR) established in 2000. With 1,784 sq km of KPR as its core, the KBR has an additional area of 826 sq km. If the KBR boundary is followed for the KNP’s ESZ, this single stretch of protected zone would account for nearly 37 percent of the state.
“We cannot make unrealistic demands of the states that have achieved or maintained high forest cover,” says wildlife biologist MD Madhusudan, who was a member of the NBWL inspection team. “We cannot have standard 10-km ESZs across the country. But then, a range of 25-200 metre is simply ridiculous. It shows that the state and the Centre want to defeat the very purpose of having ESZs.”
Ultimately, it is for the people of  to decide the quantum of development in their hilly quake-prone state. The NBWL report, on its part, expressed deep concern about such large-scale manipulation of mountain river systems against “all reasonable scientific advice”.
Tunnel vision A hydel project in SikkimKhangchendzonga
Tunnel vision A hydel project in SikkimKhangchendzonga
“ We are not against development. But development should not be at the cost of our survival,” says Tseten Tashi Bhutia, convener of the  Bhutia-Lepcha Apex Committee, which moved the court after the Tashiding project obtained environmental clearance in 2010.
With a liberalised power policy and the opening up of this sector to private developers, the website of the Energy and Power department claims the state “is poised to gain in a big way”. But the hydel scam (Sikkim’s Hydel Sell-off, Volume 10, Issue 42) orchestrated by a nexus of politicians, bureaucrats and promoters can cost  more than Rs 50,000 crore, and undermine its very identity.
“We sacrificed our sovereignty for India’s national security, not to become refugees in our own land. Why should we accept these notifications that will allow private power developers to loot our economy, destroy our sacred heritage and ecology, and unleash landslides, floods and tremors on us?” asks Bhutia.
After the mandatory 60-day period during which affected or interested parties can make objections to these draft notifications, the government can either review or enforce the ESZs as proposed. By then, it will be time for the polls.  will have its say in both Lok Sabha and Assembly elections.

The curious case of Moily, Essar, Hindalco and the Mahan coal block

Why the UPA is desperate to sidestep the Forest Rights Act, one of itsflagship achievements, and why a private company moves court to safeguard a sitting union minister


On February 12, Essar Energy claimed on its website that it had secured Stage II forest clearance for the Mahan coal block and would sign a lease agreement with Madhya Pradesh before commencing mining operations. This was nine days before the Ministry of Environment and Forests (MoEF) made the decision public on its website on February 21.
Mahan Coal Limited is a 50:50 joint venture of Hindalco (Aditya Birla Group) and Essar Power. It proposes to supply coal from the Mahan block of Singrauli in Madhya Pradesh to fuel two captive power plants being set up by Essar (2x600 MW worth Rs 4,000 crore) and Hindalco (900-MW worth Rs 2,400 crore).
Why would Essar be in a hurry to announce the mining clearance even before the government made it public? Was it anxious to shield the Mahan allocation from the scrutiny of the CBI, the Supreme Court and the government’s Inter-Ministerial Group?

Consider these:
>>> On 27 December 2013, the Ministry of Power wrote in response to a preliminary inquiry filed by the CBI that it did not recommend the 2006 allocation of Mahan coal block to Hindalco. Instead, it claimed to have asked the Ministry of Coal to allocate Mahan to Essar Power.
In fact, after Hindalco’s application was rejected twice – once each by the Ministry of Power and the Madhya Pradesh government -- in 2004, it made a presentation alongside Essar in 2005. Next, then Coal secretary PC Parakh wrote to Madhya Pradesh chief secretary Vijay Singh to reconsider the state’s position and support Hindalco. Eventually, in April 2006, the Mahan coal block was allocated to Essar and Hindalco at 60:40 ratio.
The allocation may well turn out to be legally untenable as rules demand that coal blocks be allocated only on the basis of recommendations made by the state government or the end-user department concerned, in this case the Power Ministry.
>>> The SC on January 8 asked the Centre to cancel the allocation of coal blocks that were yet to receive green clearances.  “You have already de-allocated 40 blocks. Why don’t you do it for the 29 blocks of private companies,” asked the court. Mahan was on the list.
When Attorney General GE Vahanvati pointed out that the private companies had already invested about Rs 2 lakh crore, Justice RM Lodha said, “The companies which invested money in blocks without getting clearances took the decision at their own risk. They must suffer consequences no matter how much investment has been made.” Vahanvati sought time for the government to review the matter.
>>> The Inter-Ministerial Group (IMG) will meet, according to the PTI, on 25 February to decide the fate of 10 coal blocks – including Mahan -- that were required to obtain forest clearance. The companies include JSPL, Tata Steel, Essar and Hindalco.
In the run-up to that meeting, the coal ministry asked the MoEF to assess the feasibility of granting forest clearances to these 10 coal blocks. It is unclear yet how many of these 10 blocks Environment Minister Veerappa Moily has hastily green flagged. But Mahan got the nod it desperately needed to escape scrutiny.

Setting the haste aside, why is the clearance for a coal mine that is expected to fire 2100MW of power in this energy-starved country not good news? Because the projected gain from the Mahan coal block does not nearly justify the irreversible loss.
The proposed Mahan mines will rip apart around 1200 hectare of sal forests, destroying the contiguity of one of central India’s best unfragmented forest zones spread over 20,000 hectares. But, as per the project proponent’s own admission, Mahan’s coal stock will “meet only 16 years of plant requirement against the norm of 30 years”.
“I am not entirely clear,” wrote then environment minister Jairam Ramesh in 2011, “why such a good quality forest area should be broken up for such a partial requirement.”
Indeed, during 2008-2009, the Forest Advisory Committee (FAC) examined the project four times and refused to clear it. In February 2010, a joint exercise by the MoEF and the coal ministry identified Mahan as a “no-go” area for mining.
In July 2011, an FAC sub-committee reported how the project proponents and the state government under-reported the quality of forests at the project site. It also pointed out the serious threat of run-off contamination of the Rihand reservoir if mining was allowed in the catchment area.
By then, Ramesh had surrendered 85% of the areas on his “no-go” list before a GoM headed by then finance minister Pranab Mukherjee. Having invested more than Rs 3,500 crore in the power plants linked to Mahan, both Shashi Ruia and Kumarmangalam Birla mounted pressure on the government by writing frequently to the prime minister or the finance minister and paying visits to Ramesh.
As early as March 2010, replying to a letter forwarded by the prime minister, Ramesh wrote: “Shri Shashi Ruia says that the coal mine should be cleared because 65% of the power plant is ready. I cannot, Sir, agree to this logic. I have repeatedly raised my objection to such fait accompli arguments in cabinet meetings, if you kindly recall.”
Yet, the GoM forced Ramesh’s successor Jayanthi Natarajan to grant stage I forest clearance in September 2012. “Despite reservations against the diversion of the dense forest land expressed strongly by the MoEF at the GoM, and the fact that the entire civil work and construction of the plant is already complete after procurement of environmental clearance — and resulting inter alia in huge exposure to nationalised banks — Forest Clearance may be granted to the Mahan Coal block,” she wrote on the file.
But Mahan Coal was yet to clear the biggest hurdle for stage II clearance. “It must be ensured that there is full FRA compliance,” wrote Natarajan in the same 2012 note. It would be a daunting task because the Mahan Sangharsh Samiti had already built strong resistance in the11 affected villages.
In March 2013, desperate state officials allegedly forged signatures to manufacture consent from a village council, prompting union Tribal Affairs minister VK Deo to step in and seek intervention by the chief minister and the Governor. “There is a strong nexus between the company and local authorities in the region which is leading to large scale violation of forest rights,” he wrote. 
But the lesson from Odisha’s Niyamgiri, where palli sabhas (village council) unanimously shut out Vedanta, was not lost on the government. Deo soon lost his voice and Natarajan was replaced by Moily, who, in complete disregard of the FRA, went about clearing projects. As Mahan’s prospects appeared to dwindle under the CBI and the SC scanner, he granted the stage II forest clearance as yet another fait accompli.
The Mahan Sangharsh Samiti continues its fight on the ground and, buoyed by Niyamgiri’ssuccess, may also seek legal recourse. But before the curtains come down on the much-tainted UPA-2, the cozy Moily-Essar act deserves a footnote here.
In September 2011, then corporate affairs minister Moily asserted that he would not reopen the Essar-Loop cross-shareholding case despite the CBI’s claim that Essar held more than 10% of the shares in Loop Telecom when 2GSpectrum was allocated. You cannot twist a law according to convenience of somebody, he fumed.
In October 2013, a livid Moily admonished bureaucrats who sought to terminate the 17-year old contract with Essar to develop Ratnaand R-series oilfields. Handing over the project to state-run ONGC, the minister said, would have damaged investor sentiment.
Last month, after Greenpeace and the Mahan Sangharsh Samiti protested outside Essar House in Mumbai, the company sued both for defamation, seeking damages of Rs 500 crore and, hold on, an injunction to prevent Greenpeace from asking for Moily's resignation as environment minister. 
Curious, did I say?

Why voters should back AAP now, if only to fight it later

If Delhi was Arvind Kejriwal's stepping stone to national politics, Kejriwal can be India's stepping stone to change.

FirstPost, 16 February, 2014

Hate him, love him, but give it to him. Martyrdom was his since the day he decided to form the minority government in Delhi. But when the hour came, he succeeded in playing victim of not merely one political party or the other but the entire establishment of the power elite.
Arvind Kejriwal can now tell voters how the Congress and the BJP came together to stall his noble bill. He can tell them how his government was forced off the cliff just two days after it ordered an FIR against Mukesh Ambani. The AAP could not have dreamed of pressing the eject button from a more righteous high.
Nobody can tell how well that campaign will resonate with the masses but, in a series of political masterstrokes, Kejriwal can now claim to have exposed how little there is to differentiate between the country’s two principal political alternatives and how blatantly both protect corporate interests.
This tells us at least two things about AK. Whatever is the contour of the new order he envisions, he is in a hurry to change the system. His ultimate goals may be uncertain but there is no ambiguity about his means. A shrewd new entrant, he has no qualms about playing the old political game by its populist rules and playing it, spectacularly, to the gallery.
Yet, AK’s ideologically uncertain and methodically opportunistic politics has raised hope. Classical exponents of social (or political) reforms and those dirty revolutionaries have always claimed that true change is not easy, true change takes time. Because they are not wrong, the vast majority of non-reformers and non-revolutionaries rarely fancies such an arduous task possible.
For all the criticism it attracts, the AAP has shown that it is possible to make a dent in the power monolith in what must be a blink in the political timeframe. Till now, most disenchanted voters thought the power politics sponsored by deep pockets was unshakable. With every viable political option conforming to the system, there was simply no room for a political alternative.
AK has proved otherwise. To break the monolith, he resorted to unconventional moves -- call it chaos and anarchy -- often to peddle gimmicks, a la old politics, to voters. The more they buy into his histrionics and dreams, the more the salesmen of the older business-as-usual politics (including a section of the media and civic societies) feel threatened. And, in all of this unsettling 'nautanki', he is providing the energy needed to break the great inertia so that the process of change can roll.
Thankfully, there is more to the AAP brand of politics that is not so much about the AAP itself. All new politics flourishes (or perishes) around a single grand idea. For the BSP, it has been Dalit pride. For the Shiv Sena, it has been Marathi pride. For the RJD, it was the Muslim-Yadav revival. The AAP played the anti-corruption card, and proved that people are willing to be mobilised beyond caste or religious stereotypes.
But then, Delhi was easy. Identity politics has never worked in the only truly cosmopolitan city of India where no single community has the numbers to decisively swing the polls. But other metros, with significant numbers of those we call sons-of-the-soil, may make it difficult for the AAP. The challenge will get still tougher in the hinterland where caste-religion divides are much more entrenched and more often than not decisive.
Nevertheless, the next elections are open to an unprecedented possibility. With more than 30 seats, a less-than-two-year-old outfit may well emerge as the third largest party in the next Lok Sabha ahead of Mamata, Mayawati and Jayalalithaa. That in itself may not decide how India will be ruled in the next five years. But that will certainly push the limits of possibilities further.
Granted, there is no shortcut to true change. Granted, Kejriwal’s dramatic methods, irrespective of his ulterior motives, may not achieve any change at all. But politics and democracies must continuously evolve. Complacency and sheer inertia had been standing for too long before Kejriwal attempted to stir the pot.
If AK turns out to be sincere in his pursuit, he will deserve all help from civil society. If he turns out to be autocratic, he will have to be replaced by other forces to complete the process of change. Hopefully, we will see fresh political participation even as the old outfits reinvent themselves.
In this context, it is important to weigh the two biggest promises of change, however unevenly matched, in the coming elections. Compared to AK, Narendra Modi has exhibited more pronounced streaks of authoritarianism in the past. And there is no real bargain with Modi because he represents the same political monolith. With Kejriwal, it’s perhaps worth the risk because he is making room for (if not offering) an alternative.
Therefore, it makes sense to back the AAP now, if only to fight it later. If Delhi was Kejriwal's stepping stone to national politics, Kejriwal can well be India's stepping stone to real change.

Change that wasn't, change that won't be

Mamata Banerjee was the hope that people rallied around to end the 34-year-long regressive Left rule. But since poriborton (regime change), she has appropriated the same opportunistic forces and partisan strategies that prolonged the Left stranglehold. As the promised remedy threatens to perpetuate the malaise, the worst news for a shortchanged Bengal is that there is no political alternative in sight.

Yahoo News, 11 February, 2014


Milan Samiti is a one-room youth club with a powdered carrom board in a refugee-dominated neighborhood of south Kolkata. Montu's father came here during the 1971 Bangladesh war, joined the Communist Party and worked as a clerk in a government school. He "retired the year they killed 14 people", Montu recalls. That was the Nandigram massacre in 2007, a few months before he, the youngest of three siblings, joined college.

For about two years, Montu remained one of Bengal's thousands of unemployed graduates. Today, he says he is a full-time club secretary and oversees a few boys who run a small construction agency for him. It is not a "very respectable arrangement", but Montu makes enough to keep his family from complaining. "There is always some road work or something," he says.

Montu is still upset that he couldn't make it to Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee's mega rally in Kolkata maidan on January 31. There is only so much one's stomach can take on a generous daily diet of whiskey (Aarsi, nothing less) and chicken (fried, buttered, chilli-ed, mostly fried). "Imagine, an upset tummy on such a big day! I really missed being there. Imagine [a crowd of] 15-20 lakh people! All of us love Didi [Mamata]. She has done so much for us."

Ostensibly, that refers to numerous contracts for minor public works and financial doles to neighborhood clubs. The signs are omnipresent. Lanes and alleys are being resurfaced. Footpaths are being paved. Kerbstones are being replaced. New kiosks are coming up for traffic cops. Railings are getting fresh coats of paint.

"The CM wants the government to be visible and such low cost beautification impresses people. The work goes to party [the Trinamool Congress] functionaries who don't have the capital for bigger projects. But now they are making money because nobody is really auditing these small contracts. This is about capacity-building for corruption," says an officer in the Public Works Department.

One notch below these "party contractors" on the list of Mamata Banerjee's beneficiaries are those who control the neighborhood clubs across Bengal. Last year, in September alone, 4,395 clubs in the state received a total of Rs 63.95 crore. Each got Rs 1-2 lakh. Didi's bounty came from money raised from the market by shelling out the highest rate of interest of 9.94% for 10-year state development loans.

It's a useful handle because clubs control local youth, says a development worker with a health NGO that operates in four districts. "Unlike the Left parties that were built primarily from the grassroots, Mamata's new party when it started out did not have adequate organizational base in many areas. By drafting in clubs, she is now filling in those gaps. But, in the long run, of course, political affiliation only corrupts social institutions."

The likes of Montu, of course, do not see it that way. "Before poriborton [regime change], the local committees [of the CPI(M)] controlled everything. For all practical purposes, most clubs were extensions of party offices. You would get nothing done unless you were with them. How can you say that things have changed for worse?"

So, have things changed for the better? "Yes, for me [they have]!" Montu laughs. Then, catching my quizzical look, he blinks uncomfortably. "Others...I can't tell, really."

* * *

To understand Mamata's strategies, says a former trade union activist in Howrah, one has to understand how the degeneration of the CPI(M) came about since the 1980s. "What began as the politics of empowerment for the marginalized through land reform etc. became the politics of partisan entitlement (paiye deoar rajniti). If you were with the party, you got jobs, your children got school admission, your parents got hospital beds. As the party got primacy over people, the  criminalization of politics began."

The result has been devastating for Bengal. Thousands of party-protected and mostly under-qualified candidates in government jobs led to a crippling loss of work culture. The party was entrenched in schools, colleges, the police, everywhere - compromising the quality and professionalism of the services. Any opposition, political or social, was crushed by goons protected by local committees.

At the same time, says a retired Block Development Officer (BDO) who was posted to the southern districts of Bengal in the 1980s, the focus shifted to villages where it was still easier for the politically privileged to bulldoze the rest into toeing the party line. Officials like him, he says, reported as much to the local CPI(M) functionaries as to the senior bureaucracy. From compulsory subscription to party mouthpiece Ganashakti to summary settlement of disputes at local CPI(M) offices, party control was absolute.

"Following the electoral drubbing in Kolkata after the assassination of Indira Gandhi in 1984, the CPI(M) focused entirely on consolidating rural votes by creating local power centers. They were political keep without any ideology, and have no problem now serving Didi as long as she doesn't tighten the purse strings."

Mamata's brazen dismissal of criticism from various urban platforms stems from her confidence that the rural voter is with her. Her land agitations in Singur and Nandigram made her the darling of the farming communities, particularly the minorities among them. Once in power, she acquired the rural vote managers who abandoned the Left. The allegiance of thousands of clubs has further tightened her grip.

Tarun Naskar, a professor at Jadavpur University and the lone Socialist Unity Centre of India-Communist (SUCI-C) MLA in the Bengal Assembly, underlines this continuity of the Left and the TMC rule. "Mamata began exactly from where Buddhadeb [Bhattacharjee] had left. The result: there is still no space for political opposition. Look at the violence even in student elections. The party is still supreme, only it is called the Trinamool Congress now. If anything, the new government has taken the state to new lows."

The most prominent of these "new lows", according to Naskar, is corruption in public life. "We had not heard of horse-trading in Bengal politics till last week when the TMC got all four of its candidates elected to the Rajya Sabha despite not having the numbers. It's anybody's guess how many crores it took to break those Left and Congress MLAs. But what do you expect from a party that extorts more than Rs 5 lakh for a primary school teacher's job?"

Under the Left, sarkari jobs were mostly a reward for loyalty to the party, though reasonable donations helped one appear more loyal than the rest. Now, the highest bidders take most of the jobs. In November 2013, among the 1.07 percent candidates who cleared the Teacher Eligibility Test of the West Bengal Primary Education Board were allegedly several relatives and aides of TMC MLAs and leaders. Some even managed to get their entire family on the successful candidates' list.

At times, the lines between the two regimes merged seamlessly. "My brother had to donate Rs 60,000 to the CPI(M) local committee to get a paan shop evicted from a plot of land he purchased 11 years back. Now that he wants to build a house, he must buy construction material - cement, brick, everything - from a TMC-approved supplier," says the former BDO. "It's not just about paying exorbitant rates but he can't even object to the substandard quality of the material they supply."

* * *

Director-actor Bibhash Chakraborty was among those Left intellectuals who broke ranks to back Mamata in her fight for poriborton and is yet to give up hope. "We have to give her the full five years before taking a call. Already, she has handled contentious issues such as Jangalmahal and Gorkhaland well. In certain ways Trinamool maybe going the CPI(M)'s way but I believe we'll soon see course corrections. The early stages of change are chaotic and there may be political compulsions."

Perhaps such compulsions have led Mamata to indulge her party's criminal elements. "It is in the nature of spirited boys (daamal chhele) to get naughty once in a while," she said from her grand stage at the maidan on 31 January, dismissing charges of political and administrative inaction vis-à-vis crimes against women. Then she recalled a string of similar incidents under Left rule to defend her government's record and, perhaps unwittingly, underlined how little has really changed.

A former police commissioner of Kolkata sees the spiraling crime graph in terms of internal hierarchy in the two parties. "Once excesses take place, both the Left and Trinamool defend their cadre no matter what. But the CPI(M)'s layers of command - local, zonal, district and state committees - ensured certain checks and balances. In Trinamool, there is not even a second-rung leadership below Mamata. But she cannot possibly watch every party worker all the time."

To be fair, point out party insiders, Rajya Sabha member Mukul Roy and state minister Firhad Hakim are close confidants of Mamata and enjoy a degree of authority. But a triumvirate at the top cannot compensate for the absence of a structured organisational command necessary to enforce party discipline. Far from it, Mamata cries conspiracy every time her party workers are charged with rape or murder.

"It may not be easy at times for our boys to handle power. Especially when they have faced political oppression for so many years," admits a young TMC leader. "Didi does not want the common man to suffer but we have clear instructions not to take shit from the CPI(M) goons," he says, adding that political violence will continue till his party establishes its undisputed sway over the Opposition. "But we are getting there sooner than we had hoped."

No doubt, his unapologetic grin has Didi's blessings. At her Brigade Parade Ground rally last month, as a section of the crowd jostled with the cops to get closer to the stage, she stunned the security personnel by directing them over the microphone to let the mob break a few barriers. "I could not believe that a chief minister was instructing us to set the crowd free. Thank god, we could avoid a stampede and nobody was injured," an assistant sub-inspector recalled later during Narendra Modi's rally at the same venue on February 5.

"For her, the end always justifies the means, whatever the means. This is not political recklessness. This is politics of setting one's target and getting there at any cost. Look at her policy on minorities. She does not care how partisan it looks as long as she has 26 percent of the population behind her," says the former commissioner.

A middle-rung Congress leader who worked with Mamata in the 1990s claims that she has always known her mind. "She may be talking about poriborton in Delhi but her entire focus is on Bengal. Her Delhi agenda is purely that of a kingmaker who needs money to run the state. She will not sacrifice her bargaining power by entering into any pre-poll alliance but will be open to every post-poll option."

In fact, the TMC stands a realistic chance of emerging as the third-largest party in terms of MPs in the Lok Sabha polls, after the BJP and the Congress. Barring J Jayalalithaa's AIADMK which may sweep Tamil Nadu, no other party is in a position to win more than 30 seats - the minimum Mamata is expected to win this time around.

While she is reportedly in touch with Jayalalithaa, Jagan Mohan Reddy of the YSR Congress, BSP chief Mayawati and the JD(U)'s Nitish Kumar (together they are expected to win more than 100 seats) to explore post-poll possibilities, local TMC-watchers trust Mamata to side with the highest bidder for her Bengal package.

Given the economic mess that has Bengal has become, generous central aid is certainly key to Mamata's political survival - whether in the long or short term will depend on what she chooses to invest it in. Many have their doubts about whether the windfall, when it materializes, will be pumped into reviving the state economy or doled out in populist schemes in general and to networks of power centers in particular.

"The problem with [having] political beneficiaries is that the non-beneficiaries are always the majority. And however long it takes, this majority eventually turns the tables. Mamata herself came to power when the political beneficiaries of the Left Front could not gag the angry majority anymore. And yet she herself is banking on political beneficiaries who have already become her political and economic liability," says SUCI-C's Naskar.

* * *

Give me back my peace of mind,
Give me a chance at life,
Give back the green shoots of hope,
That were mine before the strife
- Mamata Banerjee, Earthsong


The versatile Mamata is a best-selling author at Kolkata book fairs while her last exhibition of paintings fetched Rs 50 lakh. The poet in her yearns for peace and hope. Perhaps the politician in her knows those wishes have already been granted.

"Politically, Mamata is the country's most secure chief minister today. She swept the panchayat polls last July. In September, she won eight civic bodies. She is here to stay in Bengal," says a former Student Federation of India activist who quit politics last year to prepare for the state civil services exams. "A large segment of people strongly resents voting her to power. But do you understand the TINA [There Is No Alternative] factor?"

Indeed, there seems to be no alternative. The Left has not learnt its lessons. A day after Mamata's mammoth show of strength at Brigade, former chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee owned up to the gruesome political killings at Netai village in West Midnapore district in 2011. "Our boys made a mistake, a grave mistake, at Netai and I admit it," Bhattacharjee said at a party rally in Midnapore on February 2. To many, this was a welcome sign of a change of heart, but the state committee of the CPI(M) censured him for his mea culpa a day before the party's own Brigade rally on February 9.

The fact that lakhs turned up for the Left rally at Brigade on February 9 testified to the popular disenchantment with the new government. But for an overwhelming majority of voters, the memories of excesses committed by the CPI(M) are still too fresh. "The leadership has not changed. They still speak the same language. Instead of making a clean break with the past, grey-haired comrades give the impression that they have somehow been wronged. No wonder they are getting politically irrelevant even in Bengal," says a senior chartered accountant, adding that he was a "committed CPM voter" till 2004.

Those who were looking to the BJP to ride the Modi wave and fill in the opposition space were disappointed when Modi himself showed no such ambition at his Brigade rally on February 5. "Unless we see a late swing, Mamata may well cross the 35-seat mark this election. She has beat the Left at their own game and will go unchallenged for some time to come," concedes a former colleague of hers in the Congress.

A number of people I spoke to in Kolkata said they felt betrayed by the lapsed promises of poriborton. "The branding has changed, that's all. But maybe it was worth having a new (ruling) party. If nothing else, it sent a signal that the voters cannot be taken for granted," says the chartered accountant.

I remind him that the last time, it took decades and an indomitable Mamata Banerjee to move the voters. He shuffles in his chair. "I know, this time Didi is on the wrong side."

The "larger picture" dismays director-actor Chakraborty, who blames "the long Left years for what appears to be permanent loss of character" in Bengal. "It is ironic that here the Left legacy is one of indiscipline, opportunism, corruption, what have you. Such a loss of values can't be offset by a mere regime change."

And certainly not if the new regime seeks out and thrives on that loss.

The lion purrs in tiger land

Narendra Modi, the undisputed king of Gujarat and the BJP's prime ministerial candidate, took the toughest test of national acceptability in Bengal last week. But even a surprisingly large turnout on one of his party’s weakest grounds could not elicit a territorial roar. Instead, he solicited support for himself at the Centre, abandoning the party's battle for revival in the state.


Prem drives a radio cab. His family moved to Kolkata from Allahabad decades ago. Born and brought up in the city, he commands the authority of an insider whose Hindi is more accented than his Bengali. The day before Narendra Modi's Kolkata rally, we headed south from Dumdum airport and our conversation took the inevitable turn. 

Negotiating the traffic on the eastern bypass road, Prem assured me there'd be a good crowd for Modi. All his friends were going because they had had enough of "Didi-party" (Mamata Banerjee's Trinamool Congress) and they anyway wanted to "watch Modi talk". 

Were any of them Bengalis or were they all migrants? "Locals, too. And what do you call people like me? I am not going anywhere. I belong here."

Unlike Prem, Nana does not have a vote in Bengal. He irons clothes by the roadside in a north Calcutta suburb. He said he would attend the rally in solidarity with "Modi-ji, the country's only leader". Besides, two busloads of supporters would come from his village in Bihar's Samastipur district. The local BJP leader herding the group spent just enough to keep everyone happy. "The cost of fuel and food, you know." 

And cash? The "iron man" flashed a coy smile.

Hakim comes from a village near Odisha's Paradip. He stays with fellow waiters in the back quarters off Park Street. He is happy with the local Trinamool Congress (TMC) workers and does not think much of Modi. "Everybody promises big and delivers little. No reason why one should get too excited." He would anyway be on duty during the rally. None of his colleagues - mostly from Odisha and Jharkhand - were planning to attend either.

At Moulin Rouge, an old Park Street institution, a group of four young professionals did not even consider the question. "Who has time for rallies!" A middle-aged gentleman "into real estate" said he was curious but undecided. His companion in a sequined top yawned over a glass of vodka. 
Nearby, a scrawny vendor who sells green coconuts in an office lane near Camac Street confided that he "had to attend Didi's rally" last week; he was glad nobody would force him this time. "Business suffers." One of his regulars cut in with a smirk. "Lions should stick to Gujarat. It takes a tiger to rule the country." 

Such as? "Salman Khan! Ek tha tiger!" he guffawed. 

* * *

The tiger-infested forests are long gone. Robert Clive got nearly 500 hectares cleared for Fort William's glacis in the 18th century. The resultant manmade grassland, traditionally known as garher math (the fort's ground) or maidan (open land), in the heart of Kolkata has been with the army since. It is said that several battalions could parade here in brigade formations. 

This expanse has hosted Kolkata's biggest mass turnouts. Cultural events such as the feted book fair always took place at the 'green maidan'. But when political parties took their rallies to the same venue, they took their cue from the army and called it the Brigade Parade Ground (or just 'Brigade'). Such is Bengal's brand consciousness.

Tigers returned briefly to the Brigade in cages during the early years of the 20th century with Dr Bose's Great Bengal Circus, a swadeshi enterprise that impressed even Swami Vivekananda. Environmental concerns have made the ground out of bounds for fairs and exhibitions since 2007. But the army has agreed to continue the tradition of rallies being held here. After all, the Brigade's first political congregation, held against British atrocities in 1931, was presided over by Rabindranath Tagore.

Post-Independence, the Brigade has hosted premier Indian politicians. And last week, it was Narendra Modi's turn. But the lion of Gujarat had every reason to be cagey.

A Brigade rally is still the biggest statement of mass support in Bengal. But it can also expose the burly myths of popularity. Even after losing hundreds of acres to the Victoria Memorial, the race course, the zoo, the national library, five stadiums, numerous clubhouses and the fort itself, the ground can still accommodate about 20 lakh people. West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee took the Brigade test barely a week before Modi. Her party machinery organized more than 10 lakh people.

With no MLA in the state Assembly and only rudimentary attempts at organization in a few pockets of influence, the BJP is not in any competition with the TMC. But anything less than a 50,000-strong attendance would have dented the image of Modi as the country's ultimate political crowd puller and claims of his pan-Indian appeal. The BJP state unit did all it could to flog the Modi message for the past month. But not many were willing to bet on the party yet.

Late in the evening at the Press Club of Calcutta, the mood was dismissive. 

"There will be little crowd and, eventually, less vote," a veteran casually blew smoke over his whiskey swirling in a tea glass. "They never had nor will have any serious presence here," another decreed. A young reporter mentioned "a whiff of change in mindset" but nobody took him seriously. Then an old friend of mine, whose political judgment I trust, asked the other question. 

"Crowd or not, what will Modi say?" 

A small turnout, said one, would make him humor Mamata. No, having nothing to lose, said another, he might lash out at her. Would a big crowd, wondered a third, embolden him to take on Mamata? But how big would be big enough for him? And even if taking on Mamata earned the BJP a handful of Bengal's 42 seats, did it make sense for Modi to forfeit the potential support of 30-plus TMC MPs in the bargain? Then again, if he did not capitalize on the supposed 'Modi wind' in Bengal, his party might perpetually remain an also-ran here.

The man himself seemed no less aware of the challenge. Modi had apparently asked for detailed (four pages, someone claimed) talking points from the Bengal BJP and subsequently sought clarifications on issues such as crimes against women. State leaders supposedly urged him to go hammer and tongs against the ruling TMC's administrative failures and policies of minority appeasement. 
But would he go for broke in the garher math?

* * *

Before landing up at the Press Club I'd met, among others, one of the stalwarts of Bengali theatre, a critically acclaimed writer and a corporate executive. I cannot name them in this context. That in itself, pointed out the first two, showed what has gone terribly wrong with Bengal.

"There is no room for disagreement. Either you are with Mamata or you are with the CPI(M). And however strongly you feel against both, you cannot openly back the BJP without angering the two power centers, even though the Left itself is getting marginalized. In a certain sense, it is as bad as coming out in the open as a Maoist sympathizer," said the writer.

The playwright said it was Bengal's "progressive compulsion" that came in the way of backing Modi. "It is expected of the Bengali middle class to be anti-BJP. It's a liberal fad. Ironically, they are very communal and violent at heart. We talk of the 1984 Sikh killings or the 2002 Gujarat riots. Do we even dare count the number of organized political killings Bengal has suffered, from Marichjhapi toNetai?"

The "strictly-apolitical" company executive described "the Muslim appeasement policies" of both the TMC and the Left as atrocious. "Taslima (Nasreen) was thrown out. Then they announced doles for Imams, cycles for minority girls, minority-only hospitals and so on. Look at the figures: the percentage of crimes committed by minorities is much higher than the percentage of minorities in the population. The cops have obviously been told to go soft on them."

The reason, all three argued, is obvious. On an average, Indian elections see a 50 percent turnout. The winning candidate is usually home if she bags 40 percent of the votes cast. In effect, just 20 percent of the total electorate in a constituency can be decisive. And in Bengal, minorities constitute 26 percent of the population.

Little wonder then that Maulana Barkati, the imam of Tipu Sultan Mosque who had threatened Taslima Nasreen with dire consequences if she did not leave Kolkata, was one of the key speakers at Mamata's Brigade rally last week. "If Modi is considered vulgar, what about such blatant appeasement?" said the writer. "And given that much of the vaunted secularism of Bengal is merely a mask, there is every possibility of a surprise swing [toward the BJP]."

This probably also made Mamata and her party a little nervous. 

Trains carrying BJP supporters from north Bengal were delayed for more than 12 hours. Bus owners were warned against ferrying crowds for Modi's rally. On D-day, rally-bound BJP supporters and their vehicles were attacked (and some eventually detained by the cops) in districts adjacent to Kolkata. Even cable connections were reportedly snapped in remote districts where people organized TV sets to watch Modi speak.

This, to stop a party that did not bag even 7 percent of the vote in the last Lok Sabha polls.

* * *

The oldest arterial road that connects south Kolkata to the center is the memorial preserve of one illustrious family. One of the city's top colleges sits on this road and runs in three shifts. The morning all-girls section is Jogamaya Devi College, named after the wife of Sir Ashutosh Mukherjee, one of India's foremost educators and the original "Tiger of Bengal" (Banglar bagh), after whom the day college was named. The evening section bears the name of their son Shyama Prasad Mukherjee.

The day before Modi's rally, Calcutta was celebrating Saraswati Puja - the closest any Indian festival comes in spirit to Valentine's Day. Across the city, I drove by giggly young girls wrapped in visibly uncomfortable sarees and their equally nervous dates in traditional embroidered kurtas (nobody knows why Bengalis call it the 'Punjabi'). It was no different around the colleges named after the three Mukherjees, and nobody seemed to care about the hatred that certain ideological descendants of the Bharatiya Jan Sangh - founded by Shyama Prasad Mukherjee in 1951 - harbour towards Valentine's Day. 

The Bharatiya Jan Sangh, set up as the political wing of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), eventually became the Janata Party, an anti-Indira Gandhi platform, in 1977. And following the dissolution of the Janata Party, the BJP was formed in 1980. Unsurprisingly, saffron stalwarts such as LK Advani have often rued the party's loss of influence in the land of its founding father, where Left ideologies struck deep roots in the 1960s and 70s.

The name remains, though. That arterial road through the oldest quarters of south Kolkata is split between Mukherjee senior and junior. Shyama Prasad Mukherjee road is the southern stretch that runs close to Mamata Banerjee's residence in Kalighat. On D-day, I followed three Tata 407 vehicles draped in lotus flags and packed with raucous BJP supporters on this road. As the traffic crawled, they called out to people to join them: "Bhoy nei, chole asun, niye jabo kole kore (Don't be afraid, hop in, we'll carry you there safely)." 

SP Mukherjee would soon be invoked by every speaker at Brigade that afternoon. The crowd was sparse at noon but swelled in the hour before Modi's arrival at 2.40pm. I met a few cops who did not hide their excitement. "There are already one lakh people here. And see these scattered groups. When they move to the center, that'll be another 50,000." They were exaggerating, but this congregation was unlike any herded crowd.

A homeopath from the suburban town of Chakdah. A "professional" from Karnataka who had recently shifted to Kolkata. Four first-time voters from St Xavier's College. A "government servant" who had walked down from his office nearby. State BJP president Rahul Sinha would later tell me that for every two people they "organized", another arrived on his or her own. The balconies of the office buildings that overlook the maidan were also packed.

The BJP, of course, did its bit to make the crowd - between one and two lakh strong, by different estimates - seem bigger than it was. The stage, for instance, was facing the width and not the length of the rectangular ground. The party also set up stalls on both flanks of the barricaded space in front of the stage. Thus, there was less ground to cover to project a packed house. 

But it was not the numbers but the energy of the crowd that would make Modi's day. People walked in alone and in small groups, in safari suits and in jeans - even the typical non-rally-goers who kept a few feet from the subalterns - and stood for hours under a blazing sun. Some crowded the ice-cream vendors, others bought postcard-size photos of Modi in cheap frames for Rs 20. They did not need any cue to cheer and they chanted Modi's name much like they would cry out Sachin's in a stadium.

From 1pm, the state BJP leaders and celebrities took turns on stage. But for SP Mukherjee, the crowd was told, all of Bengal would have gone to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). Mamata's minority report was read out. Music director Bappi Lahiri sang of his love for the party. Then national leader Shahnawaz Hussain upped the tempo by lashing out at both the TMC and the Left. "Only the glass has changed but it's still the same water." The crowd roared in approval.

Bengal's true saffron high was recorded in the 1991 polls, said state BJP chief Sinha, blaming the subsequent decline on the party's tie-up with Mamata. "The TMC reaped the benefit of all our good work. But there is no going back for us anymore. As the Left is declining fast, it is for the BJP to play the main opposition," he would tell me later at the humble party headquarters off Central Avenue. For the state unit, the moment was ripe and Modi a godsend.

As Hussain continued on stage, there was a rumble in the sky. The crowd cheered and waved with such excitement that Modi circled the ground twice in his helicopter. As it disappeared over the Victoria Memorial to land at an army helipad, people jostled for vantage points before the four giant screens set up at the corners. Overenthusiastic supporters in the front had been fighting over the few rows of chairs since noon and now threatened to bring down a barricade. 

It was time.

* * *

The crowd chanted itself hoarse as Modi ascended the stage. The man watched as the crowd lapped up state party chief Sinha's scathing attack on the ruling TMC. Next, it was BJP chief Rajnath Singh's turn. As he waxed eloquent about the illustrious sons of the soil and the "blessed womb of Bengal", a large section of the non-Bengali crowd sat listlessly. By the time Singh finished, many had already started to shuffle and disperse.  

Even throughout Modi's 45-minute speech, people left the venue in hundreds. Maybe the long wait under the sun was taking its toll. Maybe rural Bengalis could not follow his Hindi. Maybe the speech itself lacked firepower. State BJP spokesperson Ritesh Tiwari later explained that traditionally, Brigade meetings had "a cut-off timing of 3.30pm" when a section of the crowd left to catch trains home. Modi's speech went on till 4pm. 

And what did he speak about? Himself, of course. "Which way is the wind blowing?" His way, of course. "The country has already decided", of course, in his favour. "This will be unlike any other election since Independence," he said, "because the people, and not parties, are fighting this election." It was fascinating how unabashedly he wanted to turn the election into a personal referendum. If Indira was India once, now Modi is the people.

But this was no hunkaar (roar) rally like the one in Patna, where Modi took Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar apart. In Kolkata, he gave himself the modest brief of creating public awareness (jana chetana). In Patna, he had told people, "Mujhe pata hai aap kya sunna chahte ho (I know what you want to hear)." In Kolkata, he drew the loudest response early on in his speech by asking if people had got poriborton by voting for Mamata. But that was as far as he would go against his potential post-poll ally. 

He blasted the Congress and the Left. He promised sonar bangla (a golden era for Bengal). He talked of Gujarat's development and the flourishing fortunes of minorities in his state. But instead of demanding votes for the BJP as an able contender in Bengal, he presented a deal conceding the state to the TMC while soliciting support for Delhi - "Donon haath mein laddoo," as he put it. Even when he congratulated Bengal for ousting the Left, he was addressing Mamata more than the Brigade crowd. He might as well have had a private meeting with the Trinamool chief.

BJP state chief Sinha liked this approach, apparently. "If he says everything, what will the rest of us say? Anyway, the TMC will be in power in the state till their term ends. So Modi-ji asked the people to elect him for Delhi and judge who does better for Bengal." But won't keeping the window ajar for a post-poll alliance hurt the BJP in the state? "We will have no truck with her and the BJP is hopeful of 12 Lok Sabha seats here," he said.

One of Sinha's senior colleagues, however, was more candid on condition of anonymity. "Given her minority liabilities, it is unlikely that Mamata will back Modi after polls, but he is keeping that option open. Would there be a major BJP revival, say 10 seats in Bengal, had he declared war against the TMC? There is an early sense of a swing but one can never tell. Of the two gambles, Modi opted for the one that suits his Delhi agenda rather than the one that could turn around the party here."

On stage, Modi tried to pull off one last trick. Rajiv and Sonia Gandhi had deprived Pranab Mukherjee twice of the prime ministership he deserved, he told the crowd, adding that a Mamata-Modi arrangement would work wonders for Bengal under "Pranab dada", the President. It was a far shot but it took the crowd, and headline writers, by surprise.

Before Modi's copter showed up, I'd met Debasish Chandra Majumdar, a lawyer who was the BJP candidate against Pranab Mukherjee in Jangipur in 2009 and had managed less than 22,000 votes to come third. For the rally, he had mobilized some 700 supporters from the Lalgola block. "Modi is my god," he told me. "I will watch him and pay my respects from a distance. He is all we need to boost our morale here." 

By 4.05pm, the show was over. On his way back, an anxious Modi asked Sinha for some quick feedback from the local press. He could have asked the local party workers instead. I met quite a few Modi worshippers on my way out who could not quite swallow the "Didi-Modi-Dada" package their messiah had just tried to sell them.  

"We are with Modi-ji all the way and ready to take the fight to the TMC camp this election. We expected him to do the same. Maybe the next time when he is here…" The Modi badges were still on their chest. 

By the time Modi tweeted "thank you, Kolkata", it was time for a beer at an old Park street pub across the road from the ground. The familiar doorman said he'd watched it all on TV at the bar. "Waise dabang nahin the (he was not his usual assertive self)."   

If it does take a tiger to rule the country, the Gujarat lion did not even try to earn his stripes at Kolkata maidan.