A few have commented on the absence of a Mumbai blog since the Nov 26th attacks. The truth is, I've been percolating. Splicing the personal from the political is never easy. Especially when each of the gutted, ravaged dots on the map of South Mumbai, when connected, compose family history.
Long before I was even a hazy figment of their imaginations, my parents spent many an afternoon at The Sea Lounge, a charming cafe on The Taj's first floor. To this day, they fondly recount these meetings, and if asked, my father might even be able to tell you what my mother ordered on their first date. Years later, as a toddler, I waddled, clumsily chasing wayward pigeons in Apollo Bunder near the Gateway of India (mere steps from where the terrorists first made their stealthy entrance, aided by inconspicuous dinghies) as my nanaji, or maternal grandfather, coaxed me to toss them fistfuls of grain. And more recently as a college student I practically begged my aunt and uncle to take me to the now gun-shot ridden Leopold's Cafe after thumbing through Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts picturesque ode to to the city. The stories are countless.
Now that all the blood has been shed, fingers pointed and tensions stirred, my dissatisfaction has more to do with the way those formally charged with telling the multiple stories--local journalists--handled their duties. These story-tellers had the power to be influential participants during this perilous siege, but to put it mildly, they blew it.
"We've forfeited the rights to our tragedies," exclaimed Arundhati Roy in a Guardian op-ed, soon after the siege. For as the hellish attacks unrelentingly gnawed at Mumbai, almost instantaneously, the world—the one defined by the slick, 24-hour-news channels, at least—tuned into what was christened, “India’s 9/11.” Throngs of hysterical reporters dominated TV screens, charged with spreading their interpretations of the saga both domestically and internationally, throughout the course of the attacks. In our Friedmanesquely flat world, however, hardly any global event is spared from the cable news bulldozer, threatening to compress nuanced conflicts into sentimentally charged sound bytes. Though the atrocities themselves were analyzed and dissected since that fateful November night, another highly consequential post-mortem is still underway—that of the media’s role and influence during this blaze of terror. The few critiques that are appearing though, come from the domestic front in the form of left-wing news web sites, controversial op-ed columnists and even local bloggers, who are stepping forth with their versions of the story, dissatisfied with the media’s highly sensationalist and frenzied coverage during the 60-hour siege.
When the Cold War paradigm for mainstream media was dismantled, in America at least, many wondered what the next dominant framework would be. It’s safe to say that “9/11 rhetoric” is the highly anticipated successor: “Fanatical Muslims replaced Soviet Communists and, like the reds, these enemies could be anywhere." In many ways, it's like President Bush merely pressed the re-start button on the Cold War talking points machine, and now, we see democracies across the world—like India—doing the same. As an ever-present tool, the rhetoric surrounding the war on terror is appealing, just as the Cold War was, lacking an exit strategy, with no tangible end in sight.
Though the mainstream media is ideally, supposed to function as the watchdog of any democratic government, the infiltration of corporatism is slowly hacking away at this idealized notion. As witnessed in the case of a relatively established democracy, like India, in light of the Mumbai crisis, the mainstream media acted as an extension of the government’s interests, whether it came in the form of an almost a knee-jerk desire to point fingers at Pakistan (although ultimately, a connection was revealed) or cloaking over the complexities of the conflict with a highly simplistic, 9/11-inspired, “good versus evil” script.
As traditional media no longer mirrors the democratic values that were once bestowed on it, it becomes crucial to turn to a sphere that is more congruous with ideas like diversity of opinion, accuracy and transparency. Cyberspace, in many ways—with the appropriate gatekeepers, of course—is the ultimate embodiment of that democratic space. In the case of Mumbai, we saw that space timidly but articulately speak for the city, following the November siege. Like anything democratic, however, it will be support, in the form of citizen viewers and readers and participators that can truly empower it as the perfect arena for a multitude of voices to co-exist, debate and ultimately, inform.
