The Cycle of Terror-

59

Tweet

As the media goes into overdrive on the first anniversary of last November's Mumbai terror attack, we should remember that before 26/11, there was 12/3. Way back in 1993 - it does seem an awful time ago - there were no 24 hour news channels to capture every moment of the terrifying serial blasts that shook the country's commercial capital. An Anurag Kashyap made Black Friday on celluloid, but there is limited graphic representation of what happened sixteen years ago. The truth is, no mention of 26/11 is complete without 12/3 because that is where the cycle of terror began.

If the attacks last November left us angry, the March 93 blasts had stunned us. We hadn't heard of RDX, Dawood Ibrahim was just another underworld don who only months earlier had been spotted waving an Indian tricolor in Sharjah, and the ISI was seen as a Pakistani army agency engaging in mischief in Kashmir, and not beyond. The Mumbai blasts, in a sense, robbed us of our innocence in dealing with the merchants of terror.

257 dead, more than 700 injured: Mumbai 93 was not just statistically much worse than any single terror attack the nation has endured, it was also the first. Worse, the serial blasts forced us to confront an ugly reality that we are still struggling to come to terms with: the enemy is not just across the border, but also lies within. The blasts were part of a vicious cycle of violence that had shaken the nation in those traumatic months of 92-93, a cycle of rioting and revenge that pitted neighbours and communities against each other.

It would be fair to suggest that Mumbai 93 would not have happened if the Babri Masjid had not been demolished in December 92, if the demolition had not been followed by street violence and if the December riots had not been followed by equally gruesome rioting in Mumbai in January of 1993. Those three months of mayhem left Mumbai scarred and divided. Sixteen years later, the scars haven't fully healed, the divisions haven't melted away. Which is why it is not possible to explain November 2008 without turning the clock back to March 93.

In 1993, the local involvement in the blasts was stark: the footsoldiers of that conspiracy were not just members of the D gang, they included the likes of a chartered accountant like Yakub Memon and film video producers like Samir Hingora and Hanif Kadawala. What united them was their religious identity, and their perceived sense of anger and injustice in the aftermath of the riots. In 1993, the spectre of a global jehad had still not emerged, the terror was, to that extent, highly localized.

By 2008, the rules of the game had changed. Where Dawood had once provided his local network, now the Lashkar-e-Tayaba actually had the capacity to plot the terror attack from long distance. But while it is clear that the core of the conspiracy was planned, financed and executed by Pakistan based terror groups, it is difficult to accept that there was no local involvement. Kasab may have been indoctrinated in a distant village in Pakistan's Punjab province, but what of the Indian Kasabs whose sense of grievance is making them potential terror recruits? As the Headley-Rana investigation unravels, its apparent that international terror groups have linked up with home grown terror modules. Its this partnership that is truly frightening and has left us shaken by a series of terror strikes over the last decade.

But while the scope and sophistication of the terror organizations may have increased in the last 16 years, the response of the state and law enforcement machinery hasn't matched the new realities. In 1993, the D gang landed the RDX along the relatively isolated Konkan coast. In 2008, Kasab and his gang members could land in the heart of south Mumbai. If 1993, exposed a corrupt customs force, this time the coast guard was found to be the weak link. In 1993, the union home minister was SB Chavan who had sleepwalked through the Babri demolition. In 2008, the home minister Shivraj Patil kept the NSG waiting for hours till he'd got his wardrobe right. In 1993, the Mumbai police was struggling with political interference and patronage to the underworld. In 2008, the police leadership was equally fractious and demoralized. Sixteen years after 1993, the conspiracy charges are still being fought in court. A year after 26/11, the trial is still being heard in a lower court.

It should also be no surprise that Mumbai has been more vulnerable than any other Indian metropolis to urban terrorism. More than a dozen terror strikes in the period between 1993 and 2008 is proof that Mumbai sits on a tinderbox. Its no use blaming civil society and its apparent disconnect with the state for this. Mumbai's crisis has primarily to do with an effete and bankrupt political class, one that has been completely corrupted by the city's riches. When transfers and appointments of police officers, for example, are made on the basis of cash, not merit, then the system becomes too feeble to take on well trained and highly motivated terrorists. When political leaders are bankrolled by the underworld, then these leaders lose the moral authority to be able to enforce law and order. Which is why for all the commendable efforts made by the union home minister to give a sense of purpose to the country's security apparatus in the last year, the lurking fear remains: 26/11 will not be the last time terrorists strike at us.

Post-script: there is one other uncanny similarity between 1993 and 2008. Then, the Shiv Sena was on the streets, claiming to defend the Hindu majority. Now, the rival Senas are once again on the rampage, this time wearing the badge of Marathi asmita. A society that legimitises violence from within will always be prone to violence from outside.