New Delhi based Journalist Vinod K. Jose meets Parliament attack
convict Afzal Guru inside the high secuirty Tihar Jail in New Delhi.
Read excerpts from this rare interview with Afzal. New Delhi, Feb 19,
2006 (Kashmir Newz Special)
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A rusted table, and behind it stood a well built man in uniform holding
a spoon in his hand. Visitors, all of them looked habituated, queued up
to open their plastic bags containing food, allowing it to be smelt,
sometimes even tasted. The security man’s spoon paved its way through
the thick grease floating curries—Malai Kofta, Shahi Paneer, Aalu
Bengan, and Mixed Vegetables. As the visitors opened tiny bags of
curries the spoon separated each piece of vegetable from the other,
quite mechanically. 'Frisking' the food of a middle aged woman the spoon
took a dip at the water in the steel bowl nearby. It then moved to the
plastic bags of the next in the queue, an early teenage boy. By now
water in the steel bowl has all kinds of colours. The floating oil gave
it a vibgyor effect when light hit at it on the winter afternoon. Around
4.30 my turn came. The man left the spoon on the table and frisked my
body top to bottom, thrice thoroughly. And when the metal detector made
noise I had to remove my belt, steel watch, and keys. The man on duty
bearing the badge of Tamilnadu Special Police (TSP) looked satisfied. I
am allowed to enter now. This is the fourth security drill I had to go
through to get into the High Risk Ward of Prison No 3 in Tihar Central
Prison. I am on my way to meet Mohammad Afzal, one of the most talked
about man in the contemporary times.
A room with many tiny
cubicles. The Visitors and inmate are separated by a thick glass, and
iron grills. The two connected through a mike and a speaker fixed on the
wall. Poorly audible, people at both sides of the glass strained their
ears out touching the wall to listen other. Mohammad Afzal was already
at the other side of the cubicle. His face gave me an impression of
unfathomable dignity and calmness. A little short man in his mid
thirties wearing white kurta paijama had a Reynolds pen in his pocket.
Very clear voice welcomed me with the best of all mannerisms.
How are you sir?, he said, "I said, I'm fine. Am I to return the same question to a man on the
deathrow, was apprehensive for a second, but I did. Very fine. Thank you
sir, he answered with warmth. The conversation went on for close to an
hour, and continued a fortnight later with a second Mulakat. Both of us
were in a hurry to answer and ask whatever one could in the time. I went
on scribbling him in my tiny pocket book. He seemed to be a person who
wanted to tell a lot of things to the world. But repeated his
helplessness to reach people from the current stature of ‘condemned for
life". Excerpts of the interview
There are so many contradicting images of Afzal. Which Afzal am I meeting?
Is it? But as far as I’m concerned there is only one Afzal. That is me.
Who is that Afzal?
A moments’ silence Afzal as a young, enthusiastic, intelligent,
idealistic young man, Afzal a Kashmiri influenced like many thousands in
the Kashmir Valley in the political climate of early 1990s, who was a
JKLF member and crossed over to the other side of Kashmir, but in a
matter of weeks got disillusioned and came back and tried to live a
normal life, but was never allowed to do so by the security agencies who
inordinate times picked me up, tortured the pulp out of me,
electrified, frozen in cold water, dipped in petrol, smoked in chilies
you name it, and falsely implicated in a case, with no lawyer, no fair
trial, finally condemned to death. The lies the police told was
propagated by you in media. And that perhaps created what the Supreme
Court referred to as "collective conscience of the nation”. And to
satisfy that "collective conscience” I’m condemned to death. That is the
Mohammad Afzal you are meeting.
After a moments’ silence, he continued.
But I wonder whether the outside world knows anything about this Afzal.
I ask you, did I get a chance to tell my story? Do you think justice is
done? Would you like to hang a person without giving him a lawyer?
Without a fair trial? Without listening to what he had to go through in
life? Democracy doesn’t mean all this, does it?
Can we begin with your life? Your life before the case…
It was a turbulent political period in Kashmir when I was growing up.
Maqbul Bhatt was hanged. The situation was volatile. The people of
Kashmir decided to fight an electoral battle once again to resolve the
Kashmir issue through peaceful means. Muslim United Front (MUF) was
formed to represent the sentiments of Kashmiri Muslims for the final
settlement of the Kashmir issue. Administration at Delhi was alarmed by
the kind of support that MUF was gaining and in the consequence we saw
rigging in the election on an unprecedented scale. And the leaders, who
took part in the election and won with huge majority, were arrested,
humiliated and put behind bars. It is only after this that the same
leaders gave call for armed resistance. In response thousands of youth
took to armed revolt. I dropped out from my MBBS studies in Jhelum
Valley Medical College, Srinagar. I was also one of those who crossed to
the other side of Kashmir as a JKLF member, but was disillusioned after
seeing Pakistani Politicians acting the same as the Indian politicians
in dealing with Kashmiris. I returned after few weeks. I surrendered to
the security force, and you know, I was even given a BSF certificate as
surrendered militant. I began to start the life new. I could not become a
doctor but I became a dealer of medicines and surgical instruments on
commission basis (laughs).
With the meager income I even
bought a scooter and also got married. But not a day passed by without
the scare of Rashtriya Rifles and STF men harassing me. If there was a
militant attack somewhere in Kashmir they would round up civilians,
torture them to pulp. The situation was even worse for a surrendered
militant like me. They detained us for several weeks, and threatened to
implicate in false cases and were let free only if we paid huge bribes.
Many times I had to go through this. Major Ram Mohan Roy of 22 Rashtriya
Rifles gave electric shock to my private parts. Many times I was made
to clean their toilets and sweep their camps. Once I had to bribe the
security men with all that I had to escape from the Humhama STF torture
camp. D.S.P. Vinay Gupta and D.S.P. Davinder Singh supervised the
torture. One of their torture experts, Inspector Shanty Singh,
electrified me for three hours until I agreed to pay one lakh rupees as
bribe. My wife sold her jewelry and for the remaining amount they sold
my scooter. I left the camp broken both financially and mentally. For
six months I could not go outside home because my body was in such a bad
shape. I could not even share the bed with my wife as my penile organ
had been electrified. I had to take medical treatment to regain
potency….
Afzal narrated the torture details with a disturbing
calmness on his face. He seemed to have lot of details to tell me about
the torture he faced. But unable to hear the horror stories of security
forces that operate with my tax money, I cut him short and asked:
If you could come to the Case…, what were the incidents that led to the Parliament attack Case?
After all the lessons I learned in STF camps, which is either you and
your family members get harassed constantly for resisting or cooperate
with the STF blindly, I had hardly any options left, when D.S.P Davinder
Singh asked me to do a small job for him. That is what he told, “a
small job”. He told me that I had to take one man to Delhi. I was
supposed to find a rented house for him in Delhi. I was seeing the man
first time, but since he did not speak Kashmiri I suspected he was an
outsider. He told his name was Mohammad [Mohammad is identified by the
police as the man who led the 5 gunmen who attacked the Parliament. All
of them were killed by the security men in the attack].
When
we were in Delhi Mohammad and me used to get phone calls from Davinder
Singh. I had also noticed that Mohammad used to visit many people in
Delhi. After he purchased a car he told me now I could go back and gave
me 35,000 rupees saying it was a gift. And I left to Kashmir for Eid.
When I was about to leave to Sopore from Srinagar bus stand I was
arrested and taken to Parimpora police station. They tortured me and
took to STF headquarters and from there brought me to Delhi. In the
torture chamber of Delhi Police Special Cell, I told them everything I
knew about Mohammad. But they insisted that I should say that my cousin
Showkat, his wife Navjot S.A.R. Geelani and I were the people behind the
Parliament attack. They wanted me to say this convincingly in front of
media. I resisted. But I had no option than to yield when they told me
my family was in their custody and threatened to kill them. I was made
to sign many blank pages and was forced to talk to the media and claim
responsibility for the attack by repeating what the police told me to
say. When a journalist asked me about the role of S.A.R. Geelani I told
him Geelani was innocent. A.C.P. Rajbeer Singh shouted at me in the full
media glare for talking beyond what they tutored. They were really
upset when I deviated from their story and Rajbeer Singh requested the
journalists not to broadcast that part where I spoke of Geelani’s
innocence.
Rajbeer Singh allowed me to talk to my wife the
next day. After the call he told me if I wanted to see them alive I had
to cooperate. Accepting the charges was the only option in front of me
if I wanted to see the family alive and the Special Cell officers
promised they would make my case weak so I would be released after
sometime. Then they took me to various places and showed me the markets
where Mohammad had purchased different things. Thus they made the
evidence for the case.
Police made me a scapegoat in order to
mask their failure to find out the mastermind of Parliament attack. They
have fooled the people. People still don’t know whose idea was to
attack the Parliament. I was entrapped into the case by Special Task
Force (STF) of Kashmir and implicated by Delhi Police Special Cell.
The media constantly played the tape. The police officers received awards. And I was condemned to death.
Why didn’t you find legal defense?
I had no one to turn to. I did not even see my family until six months
into the trial. And when I saw them it was only for a short time in the
Patiala House Court. There was no one to arrange a lawyer for me. As
legal aid is a fundamental right in this country I named four lawyers
whom I wished to have defended me. But the judge S.N. Dhingra, said all
four refused to do the case. The lawyer whom the Court chose for me
began by admitting some of the most crucial documents without even
asking me what the truth of the matter was. She was not doing the job
properly and finally she moved to defend another fellow accused. Then
the Court appointed an amicus curie, not to defend me, but to assist
court in the matter. He never met me. And he was very hostile and
communal. That is my case, completely unrepresented at the crucial trial
stage. The fact of the matter is that I did not have a lawyer and in a
case like this, what does not having a lawyer mean everyone can
understand. If you wanted to put me to death what was the need for such a
long legal process which to me was totally meaningless?
Do you want to make any appeal to the world?
I have no specific appeals to make. I have said whatever I wanted to
say in my petition to the President of India. My simple, appeal is that
do not allow blind nationalism and mistaken perceptions to lead you to
deny even the most fundamental rights of your fellow citizens. Let me
repeat what S.A.R. Geelani said after he was awarded death sentence at
the trial court, he said, peace comes with justice. If there is no
justice, there is no peace. I think that is what I want to say now. If
you want to hang me, go ahead with it but remember it would be a black
spot on the judicial and political system of India.
What is the condition in jail?
I’m lodged in solitary confinement in the high risk cell. I’m taken out
from my cell only for a short period during noon. No radio, no
television. Even the newspaper I subscribe reaches me torn. If there is a
news item about me, they tear that portion apart and give me the rest.
Apart from the uncertainty about your future, what else concerns you the most?
Yes, a lot of things concern me. There are hundreds of Kashmiris
languishing in different jails, without lawyers, without trial, without
any rights. The situation of civilians in the streets of Kashmir is not
any different. The valley itself is an open prison. These days the news
of fake encounters is coming out. But that is only the tip of a big
iceberg. Kashmir has everything that you don’t want to see in a
civilized nation. They breathe torture. Inhale injustice.
He paused for a moment.
Also, there are so many thoughts that come into my mind; farmers who
get displaced, merchants whose shops are sealed in Delhi and so on. So
many faces of injustice you can see and identify, can’t you? Have you
thought how many thousands of people get affected by all this, their
livelihood, family…? All these things too, worry me.
Again a longer pause
Also global developments. I took to the news of the execution of
Saddham Hussain with at most sadness. Injustice so openly and
shamelessly done. Iraq, the land of Mesopotamia, world’s richest
civilization, that taught us mathematics, use a 60 minute clock, 24 hour
day, 360 degree circle, is thrashed to dust by the Americans. Americans
are destroying all other civilizations and value systems. Now the so
called War against Terrorism is only good in spreading hatred and
causing destruction. I can go on saying what worries me.
Which books are you reading now?
I finished reading Arundhati Roy. Now I’m reading Sartre’s work on existentialism.
You see, it is a poor library in the jail. So I will have to request
the visiting Society for the Protection of Detainees and Prisoners
Rights (SPDPR) members for books.
There is a campaign in defence for you…
I am really moved and obliged by the thousands of people who came
forward saying injustice is done to me. The lawyers, students, writers,
intellectuals, and all those people are doing something great by
speaking against injustice.
The situation at the beginning, was
such in 2001 and initial days of the case that it was impossible for
justice loving people to come forward. When the High Court acquitted SAR
Geelani people started questioning the police theory. And when more and
more people became aware of the case details and facts and started
seeing things beyond the lies, they began speaking up. It is natural
that justice loving people speak up and say, injustice is done to Afzal.
Because that is the truth.
Members of your family have conflicting opinion on your case?
My wife has been consistently saying that I was wrongly framed. She has
seen how the STF tortured me and did not allow me to live a normal
life. She also knew how they implicated me in the case. She wants me to
see our son Ghalib growing up. I have also an elder brother who
apparently is speaking against me under duress from the STF. It is
unfortunate what he does, that’s what I can say.
See, it is a
reality in Kashmir now, what you call the counter insurgency operations
take any dirty shape—that they field brother against brother, neighbor
against neighbor. You are breaking a society with your dirty tricks.
As far as the campaign is concerned I had requested and authorized
Society for the Protection of Detainees and Prisoners Society (SPDPR)
run by Geelani and group of activists to do the campaign.
What comes to your mind when you think of your wife Tabassum and Son Ghalib?
This year is the tenth anniversary of our wedding. Over half that
period I spent in jail. And prior to that, many a times I was detained
and tortured by Indian security forces in Kashmir. Tabassum witnessed
both my physical and mental wounds. Many times I returned from the
torture camp, unable to stand, all kinds of torture including electric
shock to my penis, she gave me hope to live…We did not have a day of
peaceful living. It is the story of many Kashmiri couples. Constant fear
is the dominant feeling in all Kashmiri households.
We were so
happy when a child was born. We named our son after the legendary poet
Mirza Ghalib. We had a dream to see our son Ghalib grow up. I could
spend very little time with him. After his second birthday I was
implicated in the case.
What do you want him to grow up as?
Professionally, if you are asking, a doctor. Because that is my incomplete dream.
But most importantly, I want him to grow without fear. I want him to
speak against injustice. That I am sure he will be. Who else know the
story of injustice better than my wife and son?
[While Afzal
continued talking about his wife and son, I could not stop recollecting
what Tabassum told me when I met her outside Supreme Court in 2005
during the case’s appeal stage. When Afzal’s family members remained in
Kashmir Tabassum dared to come to Delhi with her son Ghalib to organize
defence for Afzal. Outside the Supreme Court New Lawyers chamber, at the
tiny tea stall on the roadside, she chatted in detail about Afzal.
While sipping and complaining the tea for excess sugar she told me how
Afzal enjoyed cooking. One picture she painted struck me deep—one of
those dear private moments in their lives, he would not allow her to
enter kitchen, make her seated on the chair nearby and Afzal would cook,
holding one book in his band, a ladle in the other and read out stories
for her.]
If I may ask you about Kashmir issue…how do you think it can be solved?
First let the government be sincere to the people of Kashmir. And let them initiate talk with the real representatives of Kashmir. Trust me, the real representatives
of Kashmir can solve the problem. But if the government consider peace
process as a tactics of counter insurgency, then the issue is not going
to be solved. It is time some sincerity is shown.
Who are the real people?
Find out from the sentiments of the people of Kashmir. I am not going to name x, y or z.
And I have an appeal to Indian media; stop acting as a propaganda tool.
Let them report the truth. With their smartly worded and politically
loaded news reports, they distort facts, make incomplete reports, build
hardliners, terrorists et al. They easily fall for the games of the
intelligence agencies. By doing insincere journalism you are adding to
the problem. Disinformation on Kashmir should stop first. Allow Indians
to know the complete history of the conflict, let them know the ground
realities. True democrats cannot turn down the facts. If Indian
government is not taking into account the wishes of Kashmiri people,
then they can’t solve the problem. It will continue to be a conflict
zone.
Also you tell me how are you going to develop real trust
among Kashmiris when you send out the message that India has a justice
system that hang people without giving a lawyer, without a fair trial?
Tell me, when hundreds of Kashmiris are lodged in jails most of them
with no lawyer, no hope for justice, are you not further escalating the
distrust on Indian government among Kashmiris? Do you think if you don’t
address the core issues and do a cosmetic effort, you can solve Kashmir
conflict? No, you can’t. Let the democratic institutions of both India
and Pakistan start showing some sincerity, their politicians,
Parliament, justice system, media, intellectuals...
9 security men were killed in the Parliament attack. What is that you have to tell their relatives?
In fact I share the pain of the family members who lost their dear ones
in the attack. But I feel sad that they are misled to believe that
hanging an innocent person like me would satisfy them. They are used as
pawns in a completely distorted cause of nationalism. I appeal them to
come out of it and see through things.
What do you see is your achievement in life?
My biggest achievement perhaps is that through my case and the campaign
on the injustice done to me, the horror of STF has been brought into
light. I am happy that now people are discussing security forces’
atrocities on civilians, encounter killings, disappearances,
torture camps, etc...These are the realities that a Kashmiri grows up
with. People outside Kashmir have no clue what Indian security forces
are up to in Kashmir.
Even if they kill me for no crime of
mine, it would be because they cannot stand the truth. They cannot face
the questions arise out of hanging a Kashmiri with no lawyer.
An ear-splitting electric bell rang. Could hear hurried up
conversations from the neighbor cubicles. This was my last question to
Afzal.
What do you want to be known as?
He thought for a minute, and answered:
As Afzal, as Mohmammad Afzal. I am Afzal for Kashmiris, and I am Afzal
for Indians as well, but the two groups have an entirely conflicting
perception of my being. I would naturally trust the judgment of Kashmiri
people not only because I am one among them but also because they are
well aware of the reality I have been through and they cannot be misled
into believing any distorted version of either a history or an incident.
I was confused with this last statement of Mohammad Afzal, but on
further reflection I began to understand what he meant. History of
Kashmir and narration of an incident by a Kashmiri is always a big shock
for an Indian whose sources of knowledge on Kashmir happen to be
confined only to the text books and media reports. Afzal did just that
to me. Two more bells. Time to end Mulakat. But people were still busy
conversing. Mike put off. Speaker stopped. But if you strained your ear,
and watched the lip movement, you could still hear him. The guards made
rough round-ups, asking to leave. As they found visitors not leaving,
they put the lights off, mulakat room turned dark. In the long stretch
of walk out from the Jail No 3 of Tihar jail compound to the main road I
found myself in the company of clusters of twos and threes, moving out
silently—either a
cluster of mother, wife and daughter; or brother, sister and wife; or
friend and brother; or someone else. Every cluster had two things in
common. They carried an empty cotton bag back with them. Those bags had
stains of Malai Kofta, Shahi Paneer and Mixed Vegetables, often spilled
over by the rash frisking of the TSP man’s spoon. The second, I
observed, they all wore inexpensive winter clothes, torn shoes, and
outside Gate No 3 they waited for Bus No 588, Tilak Nagar-Jawaharlal
Nehru Stadium bus, that perhaps took them to Dhaulakuan main
junction—they are the poor citizens of this country. Remembered
President Abdul Kalam’s musing how poor people were the awardees of
capital punishments. My interviewee is also one. When I asked him how
much ‘tokens’ (the form of currency allowed in the jail) he had, he said
“enough to survive”....!
OR Love
nor Fate dare I accuse,
ARK
to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
