Geography that binds

A decade ago, I led a group of Bangladeshi, Indian and Nepali journalists on a tour dubbed 'From Mountain to Delta'. The idea was to travel from Nepal to north Bihar and Bangladesh, in an attempt to bridge differences in popular perceptions in each of these countries as to who was responsible for the annual floods that take place downstream. A water expert in Patna observed that along the Nepal-India border, villagers did not really know how to define their own nationality; for my part, I thought that this was exactly as it should be. Cartographers are hardly capable of resolving such issues. For an Indian – the quintessential Big Brother in this scenario – a trip to a bordering country certainly serves as a reminder that there is a neighbour out there with whom we have much in common – language, religion, cuisine, culture, attire and most of all, a shared identity.

In India, fellow Southasians are often seen as 'terrorists' or, at best, scroungers who want to live off the land. When some 50 Southasian journalists assembled in Bombay after the conclusion of three field trips for the Mountain to Delta project, we visited nearby Sanjay Gandhi National Park, a contested site between naturalists and human-rights activists, locked in combat over the eviction of some 300,000 squatters in the park.

To our astonishment, some of these squatters were from Nepal.

But it is the Bangladeshi, for some reason, that conjures up the greatest anxiety in the fevered imagination of Indians. During the 1992-1993 communal riots, following the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, there were widespread rumours that Bangladeshis were responsible for fomenting the riots, despite the obvious fact that it was the handiwork of homegrown militant outfits. Working at the Bombay edition of the Times of India at the time, I assigned several reporters to attempt to trace the 'camps' where these Bangladeshis supposedly lived, but none could find any evidence: these camps simply did not exist. Perhaps Pakistanis might have claimed the distinction of being enemy number one, if they had been able to cross the border more easily.

United front
What will change such a mindset? Speaking from an ecological perspective, it is self-evident that, even if politics divides us, geography binds us to a common future. Specifically, the Himalaya to the north, the Ganga/Brahmaputra basins of the northeast and the deserts of the northwest, all transcend national boundaries. The sharing of rivers has been most contentious, but it is also important to remember that the Indus Treaty between Pakistan and India has withstood three wars now, as well as the skirmishes of nearly half a century.

Southasians also share another unfortunate present and future, in that they live with the largest number of poor people in the world, with all the attendant indices of misery. The truly regional aspect of this is rarely addressed, however. The late Mahbub ul Haq, one of the mentors of the United Nation Development Programme's Human Development Reports, was one of the few economists to show concern for the region as a whole. He would always point to how India and Pakistan could prosper if they converted their swords into ploughshares. Had he been living, he would have been the first to observe how many of Bangladesh's human-development indices are superior to those of India's.

These days, there is a significant amount of emphasis being placed on market forces transcending politics; and, indeed, there is a great deal of truth in this. The Iran-Pakistan-India gas pipeline could bridge political differences in unimaginable ways. Pakistanis are buying Indian goods routed via Dubai, with Bollywood films being smuggled in by the crate. The three Indian filmi Khans are idolised in Pakistan, where their nationality seems immediately to evaporate. A contemporary Pakistani film has been doing the rounds of Indian theatres, even in suburban Bombay, where Nepali films are also screened on one Sunday morning every month. There are caveats to these exchanges, however. Big Brother can spell trouble if its products flood Southasian markets openly. If the French film industry is struggling to cope with Hollywood imports, spare a thought for Pakistan. Likewise, Bangla newspapers from Calcutta could pose serious problems to Dhaka's journals.

Music remains one industry that leaves its mark across all Southasian borders. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan remains a one-man ambassador for the region – and I use the present tense deliberately. Junoon and other Pakistani rock bands probably find fans in Bombay and Delhi as avid as they are at home. The composite musical culture of an imaginary 'Banglastan' also does not seem to pose problems. Indeed, classical 'Indian' dance is struggling to carve out a niche in Pakistan, with courageous dancers having to run the gauntlet of resistance from fundamentalists.

While Southasia remains an elusive entity, it may well be, paradoxically enough, that a globalised world will turn things around. It is common knowledge that Southasians form a united front in US campuses and workplaces. The UK, with its huge Asian immigrant population, is playing a major role in forging a Southasian consciousness, not to mention bridging the Hindu-Muslim divide. For Southasians to nurture a new sense of identity – not to regain a lost one – it will take a major change in attitudes. The media can play that role to a certain extent. In the publishing world, the exchange of more non-fiction and fiction will be very helpful. But the single most significant factor could be the liberalisation of visa restrictions – for personal, religious or, best of all, tourism reasons. There is nothing like experiencing for oneself what it means to share a common future, and to convey that to others.

~ Darryl D´Monte is Chair of both the Forum of Environmental Journalists of India and the International Federation of Environmental Journalists.

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