The disaster divide

Contrast this phenomenal response with what happened in Orissa 15 months ago. More than 10,000 people died as parts of the state were swept away in a cyclone that shook coastal Orissa. Ersama district, for example, almost fell off the map, with more than 5,000 people killed in the area. Yet, there simply wasn’t the kind of expression of collective grief that has been witnessed in the aftermath of eastern Kutch lying under the rubble. Somehow, Ersama was the orphan child no one quite wanted to adopt (I don’t recall CNN anchors popping up in the town.)

Contrast the response of the nation’s political class in the two states. Within hours of the Gujarat earthquake, the prime minister had declared it ‘‘a national calamity of unimaginable proportions’’ and promised a virtual blank cheque for the state; in the case of Orissa, there was a month-long debate over whether the money given to the state should be treated as a loan or a grant.

What has Gujarat got that Orissa didn’t? In cold statistical terms, it’s got more cash, much more cash. Gujarat’s business is business. If the dominant image of Orissa is still shaped by the landless labourers of Kalahandi, Gujarat’s is driven by its trader-business communities. Between 1991 and 1998, Gujarat’s state domestic product grew by 9.57 per cent, Orissa’s by a little over 3 per cent. The annual per capita income of Orissa is Rs 6,767, the second lowest in the country; that of Gujarat is Rs 16,251, among the highest in the land. As per the last census, 22 per cent of Gujarat was below the poverty line. Contrast that with the whopping 49.9 per cent of Orissa’s population that is below the poverty line. The turnover of one Reliance petro-chemical complex in Jamnagar is probably more than that of entire Orissa. Money doesn’t just drive business, it drives aid too.

Politically too, Gujarat has far more clout than Orissa will ever have. Gujarat was the BJP’s original Hindutva laboratory, the one state where the party has consistently won more than 50 per cent of the vote over the last decade. After the slippage in Uttar Pradesh, it remains the BJP’s last political bastion. The comfort factor with having a Union home minister who is the MP from Gandhinagar has been a major asset for the state’s administrators to get Central assistance. Contrast this with Orissa where a Congress government at the time of the earthquake had little leverage with the Centre. Few in the Central government had perhaps met or even seen chief minister Giridhar Gamang, much less heard of him (till, of course, his famous vote to bring down the Vajpayee government).

But beyond the ruthless logic of economics and politics, there is an equally important, though less apparent, social dimension to Gujarat’s scoresheet. Known for his entrepreneurial zeal, the Gujarati has travelled far and wide, from Aden to America. Whether it’s selling electronic goods in New York’s Jackson Heights, trading in diamonds in Antwerp or taking over the newsagency business in the United Kingdom, the Gujarati’s ‘‘can do’’ attitude has seen him conquer all geographical boundaries. Oriyas, too, do travel but often only to end up as footloose labour in the diamond polishing factories of Surat or else skilled plumbers in Kolkata.

No one seems to have accurate figures for the size of the Gujarati diaspora, but there are apparently 17 lakh Kutchis alone outside the region. The networks which these groups have built, both with the countries of their residence and the place of their origin, are quite remarkable, and this is one important reason why perhaps even George W. Bush may find it easier knowing where Kutch is than where Patna is. And while in normal times the Gujarati NRI may end up a bit of a caricature, in these extraordinary circumstances, this group has shown its mobilising skills, with the Internet in particular proving a great binding force.But married to hi-tech globalism has been the more traditional social conservatism of the Gujarati community itself. A negative fallout of this social conservatism has been the creeping communalism in the state. But now, its positive side has shone through in the remarkable community spirit shown in the aftermath of the quake. Anyone visiting Ahmedabad cannot but be struck by the manner in which night shelters and community kitchens have sprung up overnight, by instances of students giving up their final exam preparation just to help out their neighbours, of housewives spending the day packing rice bags to be sent to Kutch, of NGOs and local officials working night and day to organise relief and rescue operations.

Had these people relied on the state machinery alone, there was a fair chance of the situation spiralling totally out of control. Although the Gujarat government has been relatively more responsive, it does have a chief minister who, much like Orissa’s dithering Gamang, is not exactly known for his administrative competence. In Orissa, the chief minister’s incompetence became an excuse for the people of the state to throw up their hands in despair; in Gujarat it provided the citizens a chance to assert an almost Gandhi-like spirit of self-reliance.

In the process, Gujarat has shown the way to other states which remain trapped in the government as mai-baap culture. A well-knit civil society has the resilience to face the challenge of most situations, including an earth split wide open. A young businessman in Surendranagar told me, ‘‘In one year’s time, you won’t know that an earthquake hit Gujarat.’’ It’s not an empty boast. In 1977, Morvi was almost swept off the map after the Machu dam burst. Today, Morvi is a bustling township, with few reminders of nature’s fury. Kutch too may well be back on its feet, simply because of the spirit of its people.

The writer is with New Delhi Television. The views expressed here are his own.