The document discusses the Shiv Sena political party in Mumbai and its leader, Bal Thackeray. It describes how the Shiv Sena instigated riots targeting Muslims in 1992-1993, and the cycle of violence and retribution between Hindus and Muslims during that period. It also examines the slum communities of Mumbai and how social and ethnic divisions have formed, despite the mixed religious practices that still exist among some residents. Community groups like Rahe-Haq, led by slum women, advocate for better infrastructure and social conditions. Personal safety and security are overriding concerns for many Bombayites in the anonymous urban environment.

1. CONTINUING
PROFESSIONAL
DEVELOPMENT
Govind bakutra
En nb. 110210111092

2. POWERTONI
‘I realized what the word was: a contraction of p o we r o f a tto rne y , the
awesome ability to act on someone else’s behalf or to have others do
your bidding, to sign documents, release wanted criminals , cure
illnesses, get people killed. Powertoni: a power that does not originate
in yourself; a power that you are holding on somebody else’s behalf. It
is the only kind of power that a politician has; a power of attorney ceded
to him by the voter.’ (p . 5 9 )
‘[…] the man with the greatest powertoni in Mumbai is the
leader of Shiv Sena himself, Bal Keshav Thackeray.’ (p . 5 9 )
‘Thackeray, like anybody else in the underworld, is
called by many names: the Saheb, the Supremo, the
Remote Control, and, most of all, the Tiger – after
the symbol of the Shiv Sena.’ (p . 6 0 )
Maximum city. Bombay lost and found.
By Suketu Mehta

3. The Shiv Sena Party
‘I wanted to speak to the rioters themselves, to the followers of Bal Thackeray.
It was he who had formed, in 1966, a nativist political party called Shiv Sena –
Shivaji’s Army – after the seventeenth-century Maharashtrian warrior king who
organized a ragtag band of guerrilla fighters into a fighting force that would
humble the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb and, in time, hold sway over most of
central India.’ (p . 40 -41 )
‘IN MARCH 1995, the Shiv Sena, the majority partner
in a coalition with the BJP, came into power in
Maharashtra state […]. The government took a look at
the awesome urban problems plaguing the city, the
infestation of corruption at all levels of bureaucracy
and the government, the abysmal state of Hindu-
Muslim relations, and took decisive action. They
changed the name of capital city to Mumbai.’ (p . 6 1 )
‘Once in power, the Sena
decided to go after artists,
especially Muslim artists. […]The
Shiv Sena’s notion of what is
culturally acceptable in India
show a distinct bias toward
kitsch: Michael Jackson, for
example. […] Thos may or may
not have had to do with the fact
that the singer had promised to
donate the profits from his
concert – which eventually ran to
more than a million dollars – to a
Shiv Sena - run youth
employment project.’ (p . 6 1 )
‘The other kind of values Thackeray likes are
those of the country’s industrial dynasties.
Thackeray loves big business, and big business
loves him.’ (p. 6 2 )

4. SUNIL A man from the Hindu nationalist Shiv Sena
party
“Powermoni”
‘Bombayities understand that business
comes first. They are individually multiple.
[...] He wanted the na tio n to be great. He
bemoaned the fact that not even the Shiv
Sena was beyond corruption. “In Bombay,
money is God,” he said in English.’ (p . 43 -
44)
‘“Girish is a big man now,” I say.
“He has the power of athanni
now,” Sunil agrees. He has
powermoni. [...]
“Money is God,” says Sunil.’
(p. 70)
Sunil was only a little kid, without money. [...] “I didn’t have ten or twenty
rupees, so I sat there thinking: If I can’t do this, take my father his tiffin, then I
can’t live. If one has to live, one should live in a proper way. Then realized that
a man has to make money anyhow in Bombay – through the underworld or
anything – and that even murder is all right.”’ (p . 7 1 )
These days, his position has changed [...]. Sunil has a stack of business cards in his
front pocket; prominent among them is a card issued by the Government of Maharashtra
which confers on him the title Special Executive Officer. “With this card I can do anything
in Bombay. I have the power of a judge,” says Sunil proudly, although he is just a
glorified notary. [...] But the card gives him status, legitimacy; [...]. (p . 7 3 )

5. SUNIL A man from the Hindu nationalist Shiv Sena
party
“Powermoni” – Politics: Elections (1995-98) and votes.
‘Sunil knows firsthand about the virtues of political participation. [...]
He makes 50,000 rupees a month from his cable business, and another
25,000 or so from his other activities, legal and illegal.
“Seventy-five thousand,” I calculate. “That’s more than what some
executives make.”
“That’s why I independent like myself so India
much,” he ‘The responds.’ (p . 7 4-7 5 ) ‘In fifty years, what five thousand years
done 1998, general election has could not do: It gave the
live, when is I a return of February
of history are in the majority a
ghost to Bombay people who the country.’
election.’ running of (to
p . the 6 5 voice in - 6 6 )
(p . 6 4)
‘“The rich don’t come down from their buildings to vote,” he responds.’
(p . 6 8 )
‘The campaign workers at the booths outside the polling station, who look up people’s
identification numbers for them and give them the registration chits, are paid by the
political parties: 50 rupees if they are with the Sena-BJP and 100 rupees if they are
with the Congress, plus puris, vegetables, and sheera, a sweet. Right then I know the
Sena-BJP will win; you have to be paid more to support a loser.’ (p . 7 0 )

6. SUNIL A man from the Hindu nationalist Shiv Sena
party
Muslims and Hindus. – The 1992-93 Riots…
‘What sat on Sunil’s mind was the thought that the handicapped girl was raped,
repeatedly and in the open. There is no evidence of it; the police report makes no
mention of it. Sixteen to twenty Hindu women were raped in Jogeshwari alone, said
Sunil. [...] It was a powerful image, a catalytic image: a handicapped Hindu girl on the
ground with a line of leering Muslim men waiting their turn at her while her parents
matched her screams with their own as their bodies caught the flame. Many wars begin
with an act of rape, real or imagined. It is always the men who are disturbed enough by
the rape to go to war.
Sunil didn’t use the term “riot”. He used “war” instead, the English word.’ (p . 42 )
‘Muslims engaged in underworld activities […] and they had no compunctions about killing
people, while a Hindu would pause before killing and ask himself why he was doing it.’ (p .
43 )
‘The riots were a tragedy in three acts. First, there was a spontaneous upheaval between
the largely Hindu police and Muslims. This was followed, in January 1993, by a second
wave of more serious rioting – instigated by the Shiv Sena leader Bal Thackeray – in
which Muslims were systematically identified and massacred, their houses and shops
burnt and looted. The third stage was the revenge of the Muslims: on Friday, March 12,
when every good Muslim was reading his namaaz prayers, ten powerful bombs planted
by the Muslim underworld went off all over the city.’ (The 1992-93 Riots, p. 40 )

7. Bombay: the multiple-personality disordered
Megalopolis
‘Go ba c k to Pa kis ta n, ’ s a id the Shiv Se na to the Mus lim s . ’ (p . 46 )
‘India has no need
to look outside for
its models of
tolerance. Bombay
has hundreds of
very different
ethnic
communities, most
of whom heartily
dislike each other.
They have been
tolerating one
another for
centuries, until
now. Each
community has an
intimate
knowledge of the
codes of the
others.’ ‘How did I have this hatred in me? And I realized I had
been taught it since childhood. Maybe it was
Partition, maybe it was their food habits – Muslims kill
animals – but our parents taught us we couldn’t trust
them. [...] The events of Partition washed away the
teachings of Gandhiji.’ (p . 5 7 )
‘The Bombay Police see Muslims as criminals, much
as some American police view African Americans. [...]
Muslims, who comprise just under a fifth of the
population of the city, were responsible for a third of
the crimes.’ (p . 49 )
‘Maybe this ability to live together is possible
precisely because of these carefully demarcated
boundaries, these notions of rituals pollution. There is
no possibility of a dangerous miscegenation.’ (p . 6 3 )

8. Bombay: the multiple-personality
disordered
Megalopolis
‘All great cities are schizophrenic, said Victor Hugo. Bombay has multiple-personality
disorder.
During the rio ts , the p rinting p re s s e s we re running o ve rtim e . The y we re
p rinting vis it c a rd s , two s e ts fo r e a ch p e rs o n, o ne with a Muslim nam e
a nd o ne with a Hindu nam e . Whe n y o u we re o ut o f the c ity , if y o u g o t
s to p p e d , y o ur life d e p e nd e d o n whe the r y o u a nswe re d to Ram o r
Rahim . Schizophrenia became a survival tactic. ’ (p . 45 )

9. Bombay: the multiple-personality disordered
Megalopolis
‘His big g e s t c rim e wa s tha t he wa s Mus lim . ’ (p . 45 )
‘The taxi driver carrying me home has a little shrine
of Sibaba of Shridi enclosed in an illuminated arch,
next to a verse of the Koran in Arabic script.
“What is that?” I ask, pointing, as I’m about to leave
the cab.
“This?” he asks, touching the arch. He thinks I want
to ask about the colored lights.
“That.” I point to the Arabic text.
“This is Muslim.”
“And you have Saibaba also?”
“Yes.” He has turned around. He is smiling. I am
joyous. There is still hope.’ (p . 8 5 )

10. Slums vs the Megalopolis
‘Much of the
slum is a
garbage dump.
The sewers,
which are open,
run right
between the
houses, and
children play
and
occasionally fall
into them. [...]
Masses of shit,
overflowing out
of the toilets
and spread
liberally around
the cubicle. [...]
Typhoid runs
rampant [...]
Pools of
stagnant water,
which are
everywhere,
breed malaria.’
(p . 5 3 )
‘Se ttle m e nt c o lo nie s c a nno t re a lly be d e s tro y e d . The y will re a p p e a r. (p . 7 9 )
‘We tend to think of a slum as an excrescence, a community
of people living in perpetual misery. What we forget is that out
of inhospitable surroundings, the people have formed a
community, and they are as attached to its spatial geography,
the social networks they have built for themselves, the village
they have recreated in the midst of the city. [...] Any urban
redevelopment plan has to take into account the curious
desire of slum dwellers to live closely together. A greater
horror than the open gutters and filthy toilets, to people of
Jogeshwari, is the empty room in the big city.’ (p . 5 5 )
‘There was a building planned nearby to resettle the slum
dwellers. But people from her neighborhood wouldn’t move
there. “There is too much aloneness. A person can die behind
the closed doors of a flat and no one will know.’ (p . 5 5 )

11. Slums vs the
Megalopolis
‘I no tic e his s e ns e o f we ll-be ing whe ne ve r I ta ke him to a hig h flo o r build ing .
Mo s t p e o p le fro m his chawl ne ve r g o a bo ve the s e c o nd flo o r. ’ (p . 8 9 )
‘”Our minds are like children,” Sunil
explains. “Our minds won’t accept living
anywhere else, just like your children
won’t accept living in a slum. My
children can knock on the neighbor’s
house at 1 a.m. and get food. If they
don’t like their mother’s rice and dal they
can go to the neighbors; a child come to
your house to eat is like God come to
eat. They can eat anywhere in the
chawl. But if your children were to knock
on the neighbor’s flat at 1 a.m. you
would give them two slaps.[...] You don’t
want your neighbor to think you can’t
afford food for your children.’(p . 9 2 )
‘I ask them why there is more unity, more fellow feeling in the chawl.
Common toilets, explains Sunil. “When you go to the toilet, you have
to see everyone’s face. [...] The women fill buckets with water
together at the tap and they converse. [...] In a block of flats the
toilets are all separate. [...] The talk is on a high level.’ (p . 9 3 )

12. RAHE-HAQ A meeting with a women’s group
‘Arifa Khan, along with about twenty other
Muslim women, was now sitting in the room,
which also functions as a day-care center.
[…] the women started telling me about the
troubles: their men shot and stabbed, by the
police or the Hindus. The azaan rang out
from a nearby mosque; the women covered
their heads. The Hindus and Muslims now
lived apart in the slum, out of choice.’ (p . 5 1 )
‘“This is our watan” – homeland.
“Whatever it is, it’s our India.” One of
the women claimed the right to live
here by virtue of the fact that she
votes.’ (p . 5 1 )
‘Rahe-haq – The Right Path – is an organization
of around fifteen women, most but not all of them
Muslim. They started with nine members in 1988
in response to the toilet problem. [...] Every
election, various leaders would come around to
the slum and promise to do something about the
toilets. The group of women got together and went
to the municipal office. “We did bhagdaud,”
explained the women. This term, familiar to
anybody dealing with Indian bureaucracy, means
to run around, to go from one office to the next
with your petition till you get what you’re looking
for. The women did bhagdaud, and finally some of
the toilets were cleaned.’ (p . 5 3 -5 4)

13. RAHE-HAQ A meeting with a women’s group
‘If there is hope for Bombay, it is in this group of slum women, all
illiterate, and others like them. Issues of infrastructure are not
abstract problems for them. Much more than the men, the women
have to deal with such issues firsthand. If you want to make sure
that the money you send to a poor place will be spent properly, give
it to the women who live there.’ (p . 5 5 )

14. VIOLENCE AND JUSTICE
‘When the bombs went off, killing and
maiming people indiscriminately, the
Hindus were reminded that the
Muslims weren’t helpless. On the
trains, proving ground of dignity, they
could hold their heads high again.’
(p . 48 )
‘Very few issues affect the urban
voter as much as crime. In the
anonymous city, in the close
quarters of the slum, the
overriding interest is law and
order, stability. More than water,
more than housing, more than
jobs, the Bombayite wants
personal safety. [...] The violence
had been driven under the
surface, controlled as deliberately
as it was deliberately organized
during the riots.’ (p . 6 4)
‘All the accumulated insults, rebukes, and
disappointments of life in a decaying
megalopolis come out in a cathartic release
of anger. It’s okay to be angry in a crowd;
the crowd feeds on your anger, digests it,
nourishes your rage as your rage nourishes
it. All of a sudden you feel powerful. You
can take on anybody. It is not their city
anymore, it is your city.
You own this city by right of your anger.’
(p . 8 8 )

15. THE GHOST DEMOCRACY
‘“If you elect me, you’ll be free from goondas.” As the boss of the
thugs, he is running a sort of protection racket for the entire
constituency. Since the police have failed so miserably at curbing
extortion, the public might as well elect the extortionist himself to
guarantee protection. It is the same survival tactic that led 5
percent of the city’s Muslims to vote for their blood enemy, the
Sena, in the 1995 election.’ (p . 9 5 )
The country has gone through three
general elections in as many years. It
is an agonized, continuous
reaffirmation of loyalty to the
democratic process; again and again,
the country has to prove itself a
democracy. The patience of the
people amazes me. Year after year,
with no real choices ahead of them,
the country still trudges dutifully to
the polls.’ (p . 9 5 -9 6 )

16. Grazie per l’attenzione...
Arpaia Giuseppina
Maisto Anna