Anupam Shrivastava is a telecom engineer, though in our interactions, I felt he’s by temperament a bit of an artist as well. He’s imaginative and innovative at work and otherwise. He has done well in his career and life in general. He has held positions of leadership from the district level to the national level in his career spanning more than three decades. He retired as the Chairman and Managing Director of the coveted public sector telecom company—Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited.
His job was satisfying, at times challenging, and on one occasion life changing. Those four days were the most challenging days of his career, perhaps his life, when he had to keep the communication running during the worst kind of communal pogrom in Bhopal aftermath Babri Masjid demolition in December of 1992. Anupam, as the head of the district telephone exchange, kept the communication going with the help of a select few colleagues was a heroic act. His first book—Bhopal ’92 (published by Speaking Tiger in association with Vyakti)—is a fictional and gripping account of all transpired in those four fateful days.
Reading the book, I felt Anupam was in a kind of a trance, like another power, divine in nature, not seen but strongly felt, overtook him and made him do things, oblivious of usual concerns, reactions, insecurities, even family needs were relegated to the peripheries.
A conflict is a symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal, particular those provoked by communal sentiments. The religious passions soured out of control. People who coexisted amicably in a peaceful city for generations, were friends and compatriots, all of a sudden, were gunning for each other’s life. Such were the sentiments unleashed by the demolition of Babri Masjid and triggered the worst in people of either faith.
They were not their usual self; they were ready to kill, and get killed in the process. And generations of coexistence in a harmonious social fabric of interdependence and love and respect for each other didn’t seem to matter because of one tragic demolition of a mosque in Ayodhya.
While the worst kind of pogrom was unleashed in the streets of Bhopal with hundreds of people slaughtered, arson and uproar, melee and brawls were the order of the day. No law and order. Despite this, there were few who were fighting the arduous battle to keep the city running and communication flowing. Anupam is one of them.
He spent these four days in the local telephone exchange for four days, and didn't go home. He kept the exchange running, in the process, ended up doing his job beyond the call of duty. In these four days, he experienced, in his own words, ‘the essence of life’ and the ‘boundless human potential’ to do good and bad.
This comes as a bit of a shock. A soft-spoken person, Anupam, who’s usually considered in his response, never seems to be in a hurry, looks much younger than his age. There's a curious teenager in him, Anupam likes to take a plunge in uncharted territory, try to do new things, or do things differently.
He likes movies, poetry, art and is a good storyteller. He has a way with words, which was handy when it came to writing the book. He did it in quick time though much water has flowed down the bridge since 1992. A strongly lived experience is etched in the mind, and lends itself seamlessly to a lucid narrative—this book.
The context is important. In the early 1990s, this was before the information revolution overwhelmed our lives, to stay connected was not intuitively easy. A long-distance phone conversation was a luxury only few could afford and fairly cumbersome. A phone connection would require years of waiting. And to keep the exchange running was fairly industrious in nature, these were early days of automation.
Things have changed beyond recognition since. Contrary to the challenges of keeping the communication running, now the authorities are obliged to shut down the internet network in order to deal with the breach in the law-and-order. A changed communication perspective has led to change in response. In that sense, as Anupam puts it ‘this book is a comparative history of how communication changed the way we live, and die.’
The nuanced nature of truth is like peeling back the onion. Layers after layer of quest for the elusive truth. Each one of those involved in the mayhem has their own truth, and they believed in it with religious fervour. There was no common ground, Bhopal has become a conflict zone. In these four days, Anupam says, ‘I lived a lifetime’.
Reading the book, I felt he was in a kind of a trance, like another power, divine in nature, not seen but strongly felt, overtook him and made him do things, like a warrior, oblivious of usual concerns, reactions, insecurities, even family needs were relegated to the peripheries. For instance, a perceived threat came to Anupam’s rescue. He went out of the way to ensure a decent burial of a colleague, risking his own safety in the process, and such things.
What comes across clearly as the narrative flows is that people are unpredictable when they are challenged. Like a cat pounces back when cornered by a dog and an aggressive elephant backtracks when a sole human stands ground emanating calm energy to his bellowing aggression. So, while aggression can become a good form of defence and calmness can also be passive aggression—both equally effective.
This book to me is of historical significance. A fresh take on the communal clashes. The books bring to the fore the nuances of a communal unrest in an experiential, lived way. An empathic book is engaging and also disturbing in some measure. Anupam has described the events, as they unfolded, vividly, and to me this book seems like a screenplay of a movie. And reminds of the prophetic words of Mahatma Gandhi, “An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
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