Somnath, Gujarat AS the majestic Somnath temple glows in the setting sun, the Arabian Sea in the backdrop only heightens the sense of serenity that pervades the sprawling precincts of this most famous of the 12 jyotirlingas.

Then you see the armed men guarding the temple, sigh at how life has changed and remember this is just so political a setting — one where L.K. Advani’s Somnath-Ayodhya yatra began on September 25, 1990, touching off riots, setting off the BJP’s march to Delhi.

Fourteen years later, the party has almost repaid its debts, changing everything around the temple and even appropriating for itself Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, the inspiration for the rebuilding of the temple in the 1950s.

Narendra Modi, a pracharak then who used his organisational skills to make the yatra a success, is now chief minister, Advani is deputy prime minister. Both are frequent visitors, Advani coming every September 25 and Modi needing no occasion to.

The Bharat Uday Yatra’s second leg will begin 125 km away in Porbandar, but in Somnath — the town’s name is actually Prabhas Patan — no one is complaining. In power, the BJP has changed the face of the temple.

The Somnath Trust, the Gujarat government’s Pavitra Yatradham Vikas Board, Central grants for beach development plan — Somnath is not short of money, nor promises.

The town itself has not changed much in the past 14 years but the temple and its surroundings have metamorphosed, bringing in more devotees, tourists and money. There is an upcoming attraction for Vaishnavites too. A big Krishna temple is coming up at a place where the mythical hero is believed to have died.

Somnath may have helped the BJP’s fortunes elswhere, but the assembly constituency is with the Congress. The BJP has won it only once, in 1998 — only to lose it in 2003, ironically when Hindutva was at its peak.

The rath yatra also saddled the temple with security that was unheard of before 1990. ‘‘Earlier we used to take photographs right inside the temple, now no electronic gadgets are allowed,’’ says Naresh Goswami, a local photographer. ‘‘But I am happy,’’ he adds, ‘‘I get tourists on the beach.’’

‘‘Sardar was ours. He laid the foundation stone for the temple’s reconstruction, but they hijacked him and the temple,’’ laments Congress’ Veraval-Prabhas Patan unit chief Jaykar Chotai. He says the rath yatra did nothing to better the town.

Somnath, where Advani began his original Rath Yatra on September 25, 1990, is now God’s own country, a BJP-built temple-industrial complex. In Porbandar, where phase II of the Bharat Uday Yatra commences on March 30, the highway looks good. But civic conditions are as terrible as they must have been a decade and a half ago.

‘‘We have been connecting everything from rivers to roads to temples,’’ exults Thakarar, ‘‘no matter what the issues are at the national level, Hindutva will remaina local issue.’’ But this time, he adds almost as an afterthought, ‘‘we will talk of only vikas’’.

The town saw major communal riots in 1968 and 1986, when the Congress was ruling, and a minor one in 1996. Like most coastal towns, the business bonds between Muslims and the fishermen communities like Kharwa and Mer are strong. The yatra period was a tough one. ‘‘We work hard to defuse the situation when tensions rise,’’ says Congress office-bearer Ashok Bhimani.

Haji Abdul Rehman Panja, a local community leader, is sure the elections will not disturb the peace. Chotai paints a more gloomy picture for the Congress, ‘‘We are faction-ridden and have already given up.’’ With nothing to fight for, the party is busy finding faults in guage conversion, saying it will lead to traffic snarl ups.

It should be a great fight: Development, Hindutva-style — versus the Technicality.

Feel good. Er, half good

In Porbandar, the West-East Corridor begins. And the water lines run dry

MILIND GHATWAI

PORBANDAR, GUJARAT: THERE is little else to this coastal town than the accidental legacy of being Mahatma Gandhi’s birthplace. In fact, locals admit with almost a perverse pride that politicians continually exploit them and their commpletely secondary claim to fame.

Porbandar’s selection as the March 30 commencement point for the second leg of L.K. Advani’s Bharat Uday Yatra is yet to sink in. The town is too caught up with everyday issues, with diesel subsidy to fishermen and narrow roads for everyman. ‘‘I am not aware of any yatra, maybe I was in the sea when it was announced. I will again be out fishing when it arrives,’’ says Babu Gojaria, 26 and a fisherman.

Congressmen argue the BJP’s slender victory in Porbandar in the 1999 Lok Sabha election has forced the saffron brigade to focus special attention on this town, shift the yatra’s seat from the traditional Somnath to Porbandar.

That the West-East Corridor also takes off from Porbandar perhaps escapes them. Where politics is all, why bother with geography?

“Minus Mahatma Gandhi and a Sudama temple, Porbandar is zero,’’ says Congress Porbandar unit chief Jalesh Lakhani. ‘‘There is nothing to feel good about here.’’ The assembly constituency is represented by the Congress, which also controls the local civic body.

Till a few years ago, the region was notorious for gang rivalries, inspiring films like Godmother. But Santokben Jadeja, who represented the neighbouring Kutiyana constituency once, has moved to Rajkot. The gangs have gone, robbing Porbandar of its notoriety.

Even so, vikas (development) is hardly an emotive issue here. Even a yatra is old hat, Murli Manohar Joshi was here for his 1991-92 Ekta Yatra but not many remember it.

The Porbandar-Puri leg of Advani’s new yatra will begin from Sudama Chowk, an open square outside the Sudama temple. The proposed venue is now a parking lot, a small one too. ‘‘They chose a small venue because it’s easy to fill it with hired crowds,’’ reasons Congressman Vajubhai Karia, former president of the Porbandar municipality.

‘‘We think the BJP may rake up Hindutva along with development,’’ says a Congress veteran, admitting there is a simmering tension between Hindus and Muslims. The town economy depends largely on fishing, involves both communities.

‘‘Muslims here are into every anti-national and criminal activity but business ties ensure that peace is maintained. After all it’s a question of bread and butter for both,’’ says BJP’s district general secretary Bharat Modi.

‘Minus Mahatma Gandhi and the Sudama temple, Porbandar is zero’: Congress leader. ‘But go to the highway and compare the time saved’: BJP worker‘‘The BJP restored law and order to the town after coming to power in 1995,’’ says Sunil Modi, a BJP-friendly trader. ‘‘Nobody used to venture out at night, now people go to the beach even after midnight.’’

BJP’s Porbandar district unit vice-president Kanjibhai Lodhari strikes a different chord. ‘‘Hindutva as an issue still retains 15 per cent appeal,’’ he says, even as his partymen try to tell you a different story: ‘‘The Ram temple will be built only when the BJP gets an absolute majority. It does not figure on the NDA agenda.’’

Haji Kasam Sanghar, a Muslim leader, wonders whether the yatra will set off another round of tension. ‘‘It may not have any problems here, but elsewhere ...’’ He remembers how the town held its peace in 1990 and even in 2002, as Gujarat burnt.

Others want to brush aside the past. ‘‘Go to any highway and compare the time you spent earlier in commuting,’’ says engineer Chetan Jungi. He applauds the BJP but the Congress-controlled civic body accuses the state government of not releasing sufficient drinking water. Sadak but no pani!

Allegations and grand plans notwithstanding, there is little sign of development in Porbandar. The BJP is unbothered. ‘‘The moment we get publicity material we will begin in right earnest,’’ says a local leader.

Welcome to the elections. In the charkha maestro’s birthplace, spin is in.

In Laloo land, exit policy in progress

In 1990, 18 trains passed through Samastipur. Today, 64 do. Locals can migrate faster than ever

VARGHESE K. GEORGE

SAMASTIPUR, BIHAR: IN the 14 years since L.K. Advani’s Ram rath was stopped at Samastipur on October 23, 1990, the long march of Hindutva has been almost ceaseless. The ecclesiastical occupies more space today — in the mind and on the ground. By the roadside, salvation seekers have never had it so good — every few kilometres in Bihar, one finds a new mandir, some huge, some small but all on the road.

The public road is never a disputed site for mandir construction. Neither are police stations, schools, jails. In the past decade, most of them in Bihar have acquired a mandir. What Caesar had 14 year ago, is no longer Caesar’s alone.

Laloo Prasad Yadav was the chief minister when Advani was arrested in 1990, seven days before the yatra was to conclude in Ayodhya. Laloo became a Muslim hero. He won election after election, speaking incessantly about ‘‘secularism’’.

Samastipur was selected for the arrest because it was considered least trouble-prone, communally. Advani arrived late on October 22, 1990, arrested and flown away before his supporters could quite find out.

Rameshwar Oraon, the IG who arrested Advani, is now in the Congress. R.K. Singh, the IAS officer handpicked by Laloo for the assignment, is now in the Union home ministry, immensely trusted by Advani.

Today other shades of Laloo are on display. In 2003, he announced a decision to divert the Ganga, bring it closer to Patna and its devotees, because ‘‘Ganga Ma asked me to, in a dream’’.

Since Advani’s arrest in 1990, Samastipur’s Muslims have not turned Laloo away. Mohammed Anwar of Jitwarpur village says this time too he will vote RJD. But he curses Laloo: ‘Look at this road. It was better 10 years ago.’Clearly so much has changed. The mandir is not on the agenda, development is. So everyone must talk about development. About bijli, sadak, pani.

Let’s begin with pani. There’s plenty of it here: half the year, half the district is flooded.

Roads leading to Samastipur have been aged by 14 years. Like cholesterol-clogged arteries, they have been encroached by all and sundry. Lord Hanuman of course has a disproportionate share.

Bijli is as rare a visitor as politicians for most of Samastipur. The government hospital has no electricity. Government paid doctors run private clinics nearby. Dogs protest against human entry into some of the wards.

The government officials’ colony in Samastipur town, starting from the circuit house where Advani was arrested to the DM’s house, has uninterrupted supply of electricity. The other side of the road is where the commoners live, in the dark for 20 hours a day. India Shining; and India Shadowed.

Shashikant Anand, local BJP leader, does his business on the shadowed side of the road. In his opening statement, there is feel good about India and feel bad about Laloo. ‘‘There are 15-16 kidnappings and around 20 murders here monthly,’’ he says. Since the SP is away and the DSP is busy in a meeting with the son of the local RJD don and liquor baron, there is no official confirmation.

But Abha Thakur, wife of Congress leader Chandrabali Thakur, is a second such voice, ‘‘My daughter and I were walking home yesterday. Two youth followed us, making some lewd comments. We feel so much more insecure than 10 years ago.’’

A decade ago, she adds, a newly constructed road also seemed to last longer than its present longevity of two months.

Advani was arrested here on October 23, 1990, ending his Rath Yatra. The roads are worse than before, power is non-existent. Water generally means floods. Only Laloo lives off the memories of the Ram Rath Yatra. The arrest of Advani made him a Muslim hero. So what if development is zero?

This time too he will vote for the RJD. Yet he curses Laloo for the material miseries. ‘‘Look at this road. It was better 10 years ago.’’

Other complaints are heard too. ‘‘Rice and wheat farmers sell at rates much lower than the minimum support price, because the procurement of FCI is inadequate and faulty,’’ Anand says, sporting a mobile phone Bihar didn’t know from abracadabra even four years ago.

Still farmers are forced to cultivate rice and wheat because the sugarcane, the region’s main cash crop, is in crisis. One sugar mill, shut for the past four years, owes farmers and labourers Rs 3 crore. The other doesn’t pay farmers in time and may close any moment.

‘‘I’m growing tobacco because I cannot grow sugarcane. But that is equally troublesome — the traders take it on credit and pays very late,’’ says farmer Jawahar Prasad.

Oh yes, there are 64 trains passing through Samastipur now, compared to 18 a decade ago. So people can migrate — in two or three times the number a decade ago.

As the textile mill shuts down, tune in to DTH

Fourteen years ago, it was a one-horse, one-mill town. Now Beawer’s old economy is dead. It’s time for the service sector

ANURADHA NAGARAJ

BEAWER, RAJASTHAN: HABIB bhai says he’s 57 but his crinkled face suggests he’s older. ‘‘Oh, don’t go by my looks,’’ he says. ‘‘It is my struggle for survival that has made me this way.’’ It’s been such a long journey. On 11 October 1990, when L.K. Advani’s rath wound its way through the streets of the industrial town of Beawer, Habib bhai had just finished his shift at the cloth mill.

He was making his way home. ‘‘I was so tired after work,’’ he recalls. ‘‘But I clearly remember walking home faster than before because we had heard about the rath and what it symbolised.’’

While Advani made his speech at the packed Mission grounds, Habib bhai had dinner, caught up with the news and fell asleep. He remembers being nervous but also recalls being content that night. ‘‘After all I did have a job and my family was secure to some extent.’’

Today, as the deputy prime minister gets ready to embark on yet another yatra, Habib bhai almost wishes it were 1990 again. ‘‘I don’t know about what has changed in the city but I do know that I have lost my job,’’ he says. ‘‘The National Textile Corporation cloth mill I worked for shut down and with me about 3,000 odd workers lost their jobs. I do part-time jobs now, but it never seems enough.’’

About 50 km from Ajmer, Beawer struggles to survive. An industrial hub in the early 1990s, the city has seen industries shut down and unemployment increase.

In 1990, Sharma’s shop repaired radios: ‘Then we graduated to TV, started a cable network and now DTH. I really can’t complain.’ But if only Habib’s cloth mill weren’t closed‘‘Since Advaniji came, the situation in Beawer has deteriorated,’’ says Ugam Raj Mehta, former BJP MLA. ‘‘There has definitely been progress in the country, but not in Beawer. Economically we have been destroyed.’’ Civic life has slipped too. ‘‘Can you believe we haven’t got water for the past six days?’’ Mehta asks, without really expecting an answer.

The Mission ground, minus the decorations made for Advani’s visit, is just another desolate locale. It comes to life only when the boys come out for a game of cricket. The Station Road is as congested as it was back then and people swear it is as bumpy as well.

Beawer would be downright despondent if it wasn’t for the vibrancy of its people. ‘‘Today Beawer exists only because the people wouldn’t let it die,’’ says hotel owner Gurbachan Singh Chhabra.

And as one travels away from the quiet street on which Mehta lives and back on College Road, through which Advani’s rath passed, there are signs of how Beawer is trying to keep pace.

Beawer claims its place in guide-books for the delicious sesame sweet it churns out by the kilos every day. The tilpati is also a measure of economic growth. Almost every household rolls out amazingly thin strips of sesame, cardamom and pista, making a ‘‘sweet that melts in your mouth’’.

‘‘Nobody else, anywhere can make this the way we do. They just can’t,’’ says a prosperous Vasudev Khatri. ‘‘We do business in crores now. I set up shop in 1990, the year Advaniji came. I even went and heard his speech, which was not very exciting.’’ But back then ‘‘we didn’t know how to market ourselves’’. Now things are changing: ‘‘We are going out to sell what we proudly claim as Beawer’s gift to the world.’’

Moving away from the ‘‘sweet paradise’’ and into Pandit Market, the streets change colour. The grimy street is lined with matchbox-sized shops. And one of them houses Radheyshyam Sharma’s ‘‘Sharma CD Home’’. Sharmaji is patiently trying to explain the ‘‘Direct to Home’’ or DTH broadcast system to two customers. He is trying to convince them that buying just one dish will open ‘‘a whole new world of entertainment’’. They leave, promising to come back.

‘‘It’s been two months since I started selling this DTH package and business is picking up,’’ Sharma says. ‘‘In 1990, this little shop repaired radios. Then we graduated to television, started a small cable network and now DTH. I really can’t complain.’’

A few blocks down the road, Mohammad Ismail Dawoodi is also doing good business. Beawer Book Depot runs well and Dawoodi is not complaining either.

About 50 km from Ajmer, Beawer was a waystation for Advani’s yatra on October 11, 1990. Its rust belt is all that remains of the period. Exporting sweets and importing TV signals keep it busy now.

Tajuddin’s is another cynical voice. Like Habib bhai he also wants the ‘‘good old days’’ back. ‘‘Back then we just repaired sewing machines,’’ he says perched in his STD booth cubicle. ‘‘Now I run this booth and earn more. And I am also not as nervous as I was the last time I heard Advani was on a yatra. But other problems have increased ...’’

Back on NH 8, a few kilometres from Beawer, one catches up with India’a grand road-building project. Near marble town Kishangarh, the highway swerves right, leaving Beawer untouched by the ‘‘connectivity dream’’. In fact, with the highway turning off from Kishangarh, traffic through Beawer has reduced and business along the old highway is decreasing.

Along the way, few recall Advani’s rath yatra. Most dhaba owners are new, just as the road is, with its fresh coat of tar. As far as former MLA Mehta is concerned it is just the road that has changed. From Bhim to Beawer, Ajmer and then Jaipur, the ride is smoother, the road less bumpy and a rath would ‘‘give you excellent mileage today’’.