Why the Sangh loves Anna Hazare?

When Anna’s team stands and shouts “Bharat Mata Ki Jai”, it is not hailing the Indian Republic but a mythic nation that exists only in the mind. It was no coincidence that the very stage on which Anna first fasted at Jantar Mantar had a map of India shaped in the image of Bharat Mata as the backdrop. It is no coincidence that Anna is a teetotaler given to flogging young men who do not obey him. It is no coincidence that Kejriwal has often shared the stage with an anti-reservation organisation called Youth for Equality. It is no coincidence that the electioneering they are doing is not directed against corruption but the Congress (even if the distinction is sometimes hard to make, it exists). It is no coincidence that Constitutional issues are so readily dismissed by Anna and Kejriwal, who has even anointed Anna above Parliament. It is no coincidence that through the Jan Lokpal Bill, they imagine an ombudsman who would be to the republic what Anna is to Ralegan Siddhi, someone who will whip us all into shape.

The support extended by the RSS, the overt expressions of sympathy, the covert mobilisation of numbers, the desire to make common cause with Anna, is not some public play at deception and politics, it is the manifestation of a genuine desire to make common cause with a man who has managed to fulfill their aims. Mobilise the people, corner the Congress, and fight to the death for Kashmir (only rhetorically, of course, for in reality the soldiers who die in the fighting are motivated by a far more prosaic professionalism).

Hartosh Singh Bal in Open. Here

You cannot bring revolution thru Facebook

I have noticed a few things about Facebook activism. There are very few updates on the site on weekends. So most people, it seems, use their office computer to practise this ‘activism’. An angry Facebook voice will never translate into meaningful action.

Along with these part-time activists, there is a new breed of ‘online activists’. I also notice that comments on one’s Facebook status or news posts are not given much attention—‘debates’ never go beyond the first comment.

I know from personal experience now, only too well, that the internet can at best supplement action on the ground, it cannot take its place. The internet can also give the impression that thousands of people are committed to a certain cause. There are pages with titles like ‘One Million to Stop Operation Green Hunt’ on Facebook. But where are those million people? The same few people update those pages all day, and ‘like’ the posts between themselves.

These people may empathise with an issue in all honesty, but they rarely ever act on their convictions. Recently, in March, there was quite an uproar after cases of arson, murder and rape were reported in Dantewada. A demonstration was planned in Delhi outside Chhattisgarh House, and going by the response on the internet, I thought there would be vociferous protests against the atrocities. But again, to my utter dismay, there were just about 20 odd people who turned up.

After the recent revolution in Egypt, people have started looking at the internet with great hope. It may have some hidden force that I am unaware of, but it is not my medium for activism that aims to achieve anything. Activists can use the internet as a platform, but if people begin to mistake an internet rant for real activism, then it’s a disservice to the cause.

Ironically, my activism today is restricted to posting updates on the internet, and that leaves me unhappy. I am restless and I want to get on the road again. But will any of those who offer online solidarity care to join me? Since returning to Dantewada would only lead to my arrest on false charges, perhaps my only way to stay connected with my work and people across the country is via Facebook.

My mind, however, is busy conjuring real ideas and plans. Offline. It’s what offers me hope.  Real hope.

Himanshu Kumar with Priyanka Borpujari in Open. Here

Ibne Safi's Jasoosi Duniya in English!

Such books sell only if they are loaded with sex, the young Urdu writer was told when he began working in the thriller genre in the late 1940s. But Asrar Ahmed was having none of it. I’ll find another way out, he said (the pen name he had recently adopted—Ibne Safi—implied pure intentions), and so he did. In a career spanning three decades, he would publish over 240 bestselling novels and become a cult figure in his own lifetime.

Around half those books make up the hugely popular Jasoosi Dunya series, about the adventures of the imperturbable super-sleuth Colonel Faridi and his happy-go-lucky assistant, Captain Hameed. Now the publishing house Blaft—known for its Tamil pulp-fiction anthologies and for a refreshingly unconventional approach to book production—has brought out fine English translations of four of these novels. The titles—numbers 60 to 63 in the original series—are Poisoned Arrow, Smokewater, The Laughing Corpse and Doctor Dread. The covers, incorporating the original Allahabad-edition artwork, depict gun duels, skulls and crossbones, blonde women who look like they’ve popped out of a homely 1950s American sitcom, and an archer modelled on Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood. And the stories within are as fast-paced and exciting as you’d expect.

Each of these books deals with a separate mystery—murder by poisoned arrow, the kidnapping of a young heiress, and so on—but there’s a linking device in the form of two shadowy figures: an enigmatic, monkey-faced man named Finch and the notorious criminal Doctor Dread. As the stories unfold, we discover the connection between these two men and how their activities intersect with Faridi’s investigations. But first we must get to know our crime-fighting protagonists.

Jai Arjun Singh in Open. More Here

The voter votes not for an idea or an ideology

Poribarton is the word we will hear a lot of for a while. The defeat of the Left in West Bengal has been reduced to this single word, a desire for change so strong that even though most people do not seem to believe that Mamata will necessarily improve their situation, they still want to see the Left out of power. This slow defeat of the Left, long in coming, is the last whimper of ideology in Indian politics. The BJP had long renounced its pretensions to such a claim, the DMK, a party born on a rationalist, secessionist, anti-Brahminical platform, has long morphed into a local imitation of the Congress, with its own cult of family.

But ideology is a big word; ideas can be smaller and more focused—the promise of good governance, a programme for roads or education or health or even administrative accountability. Neither Mamata nor Jayalalithaa nor the winners in Kerala or Assam have won for these reasons. 

Yet, the only thing that the elections in the four states have in common apart from their lack of ideas is a high voter turnout. How do we account for this paradox? If politics with its lack of ideas is so dispiriting that we need outsiders to inject ideas through fasts, why is it that the voter does not think so, and why is there such disconnect between the pontificating political discourse in Delhi and what actually unfolds in elections in this country?

The voter votes not for an idea or an ideology but for the possibility of individual benefit. This possibility is not as straightforward as accounting for the money, a television or alcohol handed out even though each counts. If roads matter, they will be weighed in, it is just that the importance given to each factor varies from individual to individual. And since the individuals whose aggregated vote decides most elections are not from the middle class, this class feels left out because its own individual benefit is often discounted in such a result.

This is a simple conclusion but one that irritates the elite no end. It may be true that the CPM and the DMK were both embodiments of certain ideas, but the response was not to an idea, whether it be the Marxism of the CPM or the atheistic Dravidianism of the DMK, but to the possibility that the old structures would change for the better, that they would have some access to the institutions of power. In the case of the CPM, this possibility was real for more than a decade but that changed with the creation of a new elite that controlled power. Mamata is not an idea, she is a possibility as easily accepted as renounced if things do not work out.

It is easy to be cynical or sceptical about such a democracy but the fact remains it delivers in ways that the elite fails to anticipate. A Mayawati, Mulayam or Lalu are products of such a system, and for all the mockery made of them by the elite, they have changed the political landscape of the country. It is difficult to ascribe ideology or even ideas to the politics these three actually practice, but over the past 20 years, they have reshaped Bihar and UP by dismantling the hierarchy of caste.

Hartosh Singh Bal in Open. More Here

Sai Baba as a Professional Hazard

Every profession has its challenges if not stress tests. For journalism in India, we suggest this: trying to keep your copy straight while covering a godman. From jet-setting brahmacharis to sex gurus, from babas kick-blessing disciples to Naga sadhus in the buff, you can have your pick of divinely inspired performers doing their own version of the Great Indian Rope Trick. But if you really want to earn your spurs, you’d have to cover a godman with millions of devotees in a militant if momentary frenzy.

The dare of the moment is Sathya Sai Baba, who, according to doctors at his trust’s hospital in Puttaparthi, left his body at 7.40 am on 24 April. He’s one godman with a following so disciplined that a military general would envy it, so full of famous figures that a VIP list for a World Cup final would be put to shame, so zealous that the blasphemy police of the Subcontinent’s far frontiers could take tips from them.

Earlier this month in Puttaparthi, I phoned a district reporter for a local perspective on the godman. “Are you writing negative or positive things?” he demanded. “Just writing facts,” I responded. “What kind of facts are you looking for?” he asked. His tone suggested that the facts would have to be approved by the faithful.

Thankfully, violence is a no-no for Sai Baba’s disciples. But that does not necessarily make it unlikely. Outside the hospital where the godman lay ailing in an ICU ward, I suggested to a TV reporter that he run a sting operation for an insider story. “If I get in there,” he replied, “I will not get out alive.” He was only half joking.

Anil Budur Lulla shares the perils of tracking the deceased godman’s life, influence and miracles as a journalist in Open. Here

Madhu Koda and his RSS Connections

Q Your political rise was meteoric…
A I had never imagined that I would be in politics, or even planned to join it. I was involved in a labour movement in mines. We were partly successful in our campaign. We were able to ensure miners got minimum wages and that they were paid OT (overtime) fees as well. A lot of miners benefitted from our movement. Over a period of time, my involvement as an activist fighting for the rights of miners led to the formation of a base of supporters and sympathisers in the organised and unorganised sectors.

Q At that time you weren’t associated with a political party...
A Yes, I wasn’t a member of any political party. But as my activities as a ‘mazdoor andolan’ leader expanded in 1989, mine owners began to view my labour activism adversely. They began lodging false cases against me. I then realised the strategic necessity of continuing my activism under the banner of a political party. That’s when I joined the BJP [in 1994].

Q Were you also with the RSS?
A Yes, I was in touch with them. I was with the BJP, and it is natural that I would be in contact with the RSS.

Madhu Koda in conversation with VK Shashi Kumar in Open. More Here and Here

Anna Hazare show: Is it revolution?

If you happen to watch television news or read the newspapers, you may feel that the nation is on the brink of a revolution unleashed by an austere man in a white cap not many wear anymore. Anna Hazare, a former driver with the Indian Army who has the useful Indian talent for sitting cross-legged for long periods, is right now on a thin white mattress by a wayside in Delhi, having vowed to fast until death or until the Government agrees to set up a potent anti-corruption body made up of good people who would have power over all important arms of the Government.

His protest comes in the wake of a series of scams that are extraordinary even by Indian standards. Intoxicated by images on television of this man, who is not a politician, people in several towns have begun their own fasts. And the middleclass is wondering if this, finally, is their deserved revolution.

But there is much that is not evident on television. As this column goes to press on the second day of the fast, the number of people at his protest in Delhi is just around 300, including journalists. They are on a 50 metre stretch of a roadside that is between a public urinal and a wall.

Hazare, who is on a raised platform, has acquired many of the mannerisms of Mohandas Gandhi, including a thoughtful tilt of his head. Behind him are images of Gandhi and a very shapely Mother India.

People take turns to say things into a mike. One man says that the fact that Indian news channels were not allowed to carry footage of the cricket World Cup is further proof that foreign corporations are trying to control India. Poets have descended to read their poems, many of them impoverished. One of them sings, “You have planes and ships/We have no roads to walk on.” An announcer says, “In our fight against corruption, we specially thank the media for their support.” Everybody claps. Later, he requests the cameramen present not to fight among themselves.

One man comes up and screams, “We are not begging, we are asking for our right. Now raise your hands if you are not beggars.” Very few do. He looks unhappily at the crowd and says, “Lots of beggars here.”

There are a lot of messages on placards pinned on activists and on walls. A poster that is titled Latest Denomination says, ‘200 Crores = 1 Koda; 25 Kodas = 1 Kalmadi; 4 Kalmadis = 1 Raja’. And, enigmatically, ‘100 Rajas = 1 Rani’.

Suddenly, a man appears undressed as Gandhi, holding a stick. Journalists flock to him, he denounces corruption and asks one newspaper reporter when his article will appear. Apparent activist, Swami Agnivesh, in saffron robes and turban, goes on stage. With Agnivesh dressed like Swami Vivekananda and Hazare pantomiming Gandhi, the scene resembles a college skit.

Is this revolution?

We must not underestimate what television can do to an absolute farce. A good example is the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in Baghdad’s Firdos Square. The footage of the toppling of that statue by US Marines and Iraqi people became an iconic television moment in the American invasion of Iraq. Anchors used the images to announce America’s triumph and the jubilation of the Iraqi people at the victory. The truth was very different.

The toppling of the statue was an accidental and insignificant moment in the war. Peter Maass wrote in The New Yorker, ‘Primed for triumph, they [editors] were ready to latch onto a symbol of what they believed would be a joyous finale to the war.’

The timing of Hazare’s protest, Indian editors know, is dramatic. It is a season of extraordinary revelations. Even the Supreme Court was disgusted enough to ask, employing language that is rare in judicial prose, “What the hell is going on in this country?”.

Hazare, as a relic of Gandhi’s way of life, is in a unique position to capture the mood of the nation.
But what kind of man is he, really? Haima Deshpande, a senior political writer with Open, has met him several times. About 10 years ago, when he went on a fast to protest against corruption in the Maharashtra government, Deshpande covered the event. She was a bit surprised when he said that he wanted to end his fast because journalists from the English media were finding it hard to reach his village. He wanted to end it on a Sunday.

“Two reporters told him that since the Pune Cantonment elections were to be held on that Sunday there would be no space in the newspapers. So it was mutually agreed between the journalists and Anna that he would give up his fast on Monday at 1 pm.”

And that was what he did. Now, the media wants a revolution and there is a good chance that Hazare will not disappoint.

Manu Joseph in Open. More Here

I am a Muslim and I am not a terrorist

The case against me is nothing but a warning to the entire media, not to attempt to challenge the state. If you dare to do it, they will use draconian laws against you. If you belong to the minority community, they will also profile you. It is very difficult to prove that you are not a terrorist. It is equally difficult to prove that you are not a Maoist in our life and times.

In this era of paid news, I believe, it is important to speak for those who live on the margins, who are not able to pay.

I have always tried to give visibility to those who are invisible. This award espouses my efforts and gives me support and assurance in my way ahead.

K K Shahina in The Hoot. More Here. and Here and Here 

and the award winning report Here

The Media Foundation has chosen Shahina KK  as the winner of the Chameli Devi Award for an outstanding woman journalist. In her acceptance speech she spoke of her attempt to establish that the police conspired to forge a case against Abdul Naser Madani after the Bangalore blasts. ``I have always tried to espouse the cause of those who live on the margin and who cannot have their say,’’ she said.

She was awarded for work done while with Tehelka. She is now with Open magazine.

Binayak Sen and sedition

இப்போது அவர் ஒரு ராஜதுரோகி. ஒரு மனிதாபிமானியாக, நல்ல மருத்துவராக, மனித உரிமைகள் இயக்கச் சேவகராக மட்டுமே இதுவரை அறியப்பட்டிருந்த 58 வயதான டாக்டர் பினாயக்சென்னுக்கு ஆயுள்தண்டனை விதிக்கப்பட்டு இருக்கிறது. சட்டீஸ்கர் மாநிலத்தின் இந்த கீழ்க்கோர்ட்டு தீர்ப்பு இப்போது நாடெங்கிலும் கிழிக்கப்பட்டுக் கொண்டு இருக்கிறது. சமூக ஆர்வலர்கள், அறிஞர்கள், எழுத்தாளர்கள், கலைஞர்கள் என பலதரப்பிலிருந்தும் கண்டனங்கள் வந்த வண்ணம் இருக்கின்றன. மே.வங்கத்தைச் சேர்ந்த, நோபல் பரிசு பெற்ற டாக்டர் அம்ரித்யா சென்  மனமுடைந்தவராய் “நீதியின் கருச்சிதைவு” என்று கடுமையான வார்த்தைகளோடு தன் கண்டனத்தை வெளிப்படுத்தி இருக்கிறார்.

பினாயக்சென் 2007ம் வருடம் மார்ச் 14ம்தேதி சட்டீஸ்கர் மாநிலக் காவல்துறையினரால் கைது செய்யப்பட்டார். மாவோயிஸ்டுகளுக்கு கூரியராக செயல்பட்டார் என்பதும், மாவோயிஸ்டுகள் மீது அனுதாபம் கொண்டு இருந்தார் என்பதும் அவர் மீது சுமத்தப்பட்ட குற்றச்சாட்டுக்கள். அவரது வீட்டைச் சோதனையிட்டு, அதற்கான இரண்டு கடிதங்களையும், சில பிரசுரங்களையும் கைப்பற்றி, நீதிமன்றத்தில் ஆதாரங்களாக சமர்க்கப்பட்டு இருக்கின்றன. அந்த ஆதாரங்கள் போலியானவை என்றும், சாட்சியங்களால் உறுதிசெய்யப்படவில்லையென்றும் பினாயக்சென் ஆதரவாளர்கள் சொல்கின்றனர். இருந்தபோதும் இந்தியக் குற்றவியல் சட்டத்தின் செக்‌ஷன் 124A  அவர் மீது பாய்ந்திருக்கிறது.


ஆதாரங்களும், சாட்சியங்களும் இங்கு தேவையற்றவை. நிஜத்தில் டாக்டர் பினாயக் சென யாருக்கு ஆதரவாளராக இருந்தார் என்பது உலகுக்கே தெரிந்திருக்கிறது. அரசால் புறக்கணிக்கப்பட்ட விளிம்புநிலை மனிதர்களுக்கு சேவை செய்வதையே தன் வாழ்வாக கொண்டிருக்கிறார். அவர்களுக்கான குரலாக இருந்திருக்கிறார். பெரும் முதலாளிகளால் படுகொலை செய்யப்பட்ட சங்கர் குஹா நியோகி எனும் தொழிற்சங்கத் தலைவரின் பெயரால் மருத்துவமனை கட்டி எழை எளிய மக்களுக்கு இலவச சிகிச்சை அளித்து வந்திருக்கிறார். இதற்காக பல அமைப்புகள் அவரைப் பாராட்டி, விருதுகள் வழங்கி கௌரவித்திருக்கின்றன.

ராஜதுரோகம், ராஜதுரோகம் என இந்த கோர்ட்டுகளும், இந்த அரசும் அவர்களுக்கான அகராதியில் சொல்லிவிட்டுப் போகட்டும். உண்மையில் யார்

ராஜதுரோகி என்பதற்கான மக்கள் அகராதி ஒன்று இருக்கிறது. உழைக்கும் மக்களைச் சுரண்டுகிறவர்கள், மக்களைப் பிரித்து ஆளத் துடிப்பவர்கள், நாட்டின் வளங்களைச் சுரண்டுபவர்கள், விவசாயிகளின் வாழ்வை அபகரித்து அவர்களை தற்கொலை விளிம்புகளுக்குத் தள்ளியவர்கள், அரசுத் திட்டங்களில் முறைகேடுகள் செய்கிறவர்கள், ஊழல் செய்கிறவர்கள், குள்ள நரிகள், மொள்ளமாரிகள் எல்லாம் ராஜ துரோகிகள்.
இப்போது சொல்லுங்கள், யார் ராஜ துரோகி?

From Madhavraj's தீராத பக்கங்கள். More Here. 

Binayak Sen and Vedanta Resources

A time will soon come when Indian companies will begin to be sued in class action cases by both people in India and those overseas. Indian corporations with a global footprint will also suffer. Vedanta Resources Plc is a good example. I believe more businesses will begin to suffer legally and financially as the world at large begins to learn that they operate in a sledgehammer fashion in India, and present angelic faces elsewhere in the world.

From Sudeep Chakravarti's article in Open. More Here.

Arundhati Roy is the creation of the system

It is futile to denude metaphors to their bare meanings, but in this case it might be useful to try. We know very little about conscience but what we do know is that there is an unattainable moral superiority about it, and that it usually transmits unsolicited advice, which is the opposite of what the mind really wants to do. But at the same time, it is fundamentally a creation of the mind, a creation that is meant to come in conflict with its maker. That is Roy. She is the creation of the very system that she aspires to bring down.

A weak economy and an immature democracy would systematically empower a particular class of people, first by giving them a social headstart through the early landed wealth of their ancestors, then by letting them cash their social gains for even greater affluence and influence. Some of them would then begin to challenge the injustices of the very system that made their righteous ire possible. A reason why Open receives so many story pitches from foreign-returned journalism students who want to do only bleeding-heart stories—the trauma of child labour, the plight of village women and the agony of stray dogs. And Kashmir. It seems every loaded intern wants to do an anti-Indian Government Kashmir story (and on the way, liberate Tibetans).

Roy is more talented, genuine and courageous than most people who would get along with her. But the fact remains that she is, more than anything, an anomaly that completes the system, a system that not only made her but also needs her for its own balance and survival. If this part is somewhat familiar, it is because it is derived from The Matrix trilogy.

There is a scene in The Matrix Reloaded where I usually imagine Arundhati Roy as Neo, the hero of the tale. It is the scene where Neo meets The Architect, the creator of the Matrix, the computer programme that has replaced the real world and its real life. In this scene, Neo wants to know, “Why am I here?” The Architect, who looks like Vint Cerf, one of the fathers of the internet, gives a tangential answer, “You are the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision. While it remains a burden assiduously avoided, it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control, which has led you, inexorably, here.”

That Roy is here as the inevitable consequence of the very system she wants to dismantle, that she is an expected anomaly, becomes more evident in her other battle—against globalisation and a potent version of capitalism. The huge advance for her debut novel that brought the first tremors of critical and commercial interest in her work, the rise of the reading middle class, the liberal movement, the many forms of media that conveyed her thoughts to millions, the international interest in Indian writers, and her own favourite Mac on which she writes her essays against capitalism, are all consequences of capitalism’s ways. But then capitalism also needs the imagination of soul, self-loathing, the delusion of introspection, so that people are not completely repulsed by their own greed. As The Architect would have said, “Ergo, Arundhati Roy.”

From Manu Joseph's view in Tehelka. More Here.

And the hero of the year is Afroz Alam Sahil

Every generation needs heroes. We, however, seem to have preferred money. There is just too much of it to be made in the 21st century, never mind ‘the-worst-economic-crisis-since-the-Great-Depression’ phase that came and went.
To disengage and chase six-figure salaries instead is the defining logic of our times. So when a young person does something completely illogical, like chase the truth, it grabs our attention.
Only 22, and already with over 3,ooo Right to Information (RTI) applications to his name, Afroz Alam Sahil is dynamite when it comes to blowing the lid off things. An aspiring documentary film maker, Sahil is a final year student at Jamia Milia Islamia’s Mass Communication Research Centre (MCRC). He moved to New Delhi in 2005 (incidentally, the year the RTI Act was passed) from Bettiah, a city in West Champaran district of Bihar, to do his bachelors in mass media.
His latest volley comes from an ongoing 18-month-long-already struggle to retrieve facts on the controversial Batla House encounter.

A copy of the post-mortem report of Atif Ameen and Mohammad Sajid, both killed in an operation conducted by the Delhi Police on 19 September 2008, was finally given to him by the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), in response to his RTI application. It is the most damning evidence yet against Delhi Police’s claim that the encounter wasn’t fake.

In less than a week of the Batla House encounter, Afroz had filed four RTIs addressed to the Delhi Police, the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), the NHRC, and the Supreme Court. Some of the details he sought were: number of people killed in the encounter, a copy of the FIR lodged (if at all) by the Delhi Police, copy of the post-mortem report of the two boys killed in the encounter, details on the Delhi blasts investigation, statistics on encounter killings and on terror-related cases pending in courts.

Sahil would go on to face a one-and-a-half-year long dogged resistance by the criminal justice system to deny him information. His experience with each agency could serve as a case study on how the RTI law can be subverted.

Even the Supreme Court (SC) was no exception. “The SC’s response to my RTI on terrorism-related cases was a referral to their website. It is not possible for anyone to get information on the website unless the case number is available.” Afroz, of course, persisted. When he met an SC administrative official to follow up on the RTI, his first question to Afroz was, “Tum student ho ya berozgaar (Are you a student or unemployed)?”
“When I replied that I was a student at Jamia, he said, ‘Achcha Jamia. Tabhi toh aap aise sawaal karte ho. Tum logon ki mentality aisi hi hoti hai’ (Oh Jamia. That’s why you are asking such questions. This is all that you people can think of).”
The humiliation continued.

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To expose the truth with the solid aid of facts is to pose an existential threat to the powers that be. Sahil is fighting an incredibly brave and dangerous game. He is not unaware of the extents to which power will stoop to silence people like him. So far, he says, he hasn’t experienced such threats. “I have faith in the law. I am not doing anything wrong,” he says.

From Pallavi Polanki's article in Open

To read the full article click here and here(Afroz's Blog)

I will continue my fight to bring about positive changes in the life of the common man.

"Ever since I have got the reply, I am getting congratulatory calls from various students of the college. The teachers have also appreciated the move and encouraging more and more students to come forward and fight for their rights rather than crying discrimination."

"I just wanted to set an example for all the students of our college and people from our community. I want that Muslims should participate and take leading role in every field. I hope my initiative will bring some hope for them," said Alam.

An RTI activist, with more than 1000 RTIs to his credit that occupies most of the space in his choc-a-bloc room, Alam has also taught the nuances and importance of RTI to the people in his native town of Bettiah in Bihar.

Buoyed by his success in the highly controversial Batla House encounter case, Alam has resolved to take his battle to a bigger field. "I will continue my fight to bring about positive changes in the life of the common man."

From Amit Singh and Shashank Shekhar's report in Mid Day

To read the full report click here