Something’s Changed

The Volvos were not there when I last made the journey to Ayodhya five years ago. I had then come to report on a terror attack,very close to the site where I had watched the Babri Masjid being torn down in 1992.

Since 1990,I have made more than a dozen trips to Ayodhya. Heading out of Barabanki,I realise I have been totally out of touch. The spindly road with potholes no longer exists; it has been replaced by an upgraded highway with broad lanes,all the way to Barauni in Bihar. That explained the sleek Volvos. Drivers call it Atalji ka Road,a tribute to the highway-building initiative of the former Prime Minister. The road has transformed the landscape. And,hopefully,lives on either side.

But two hours later,that hope begins to fade. Exiting the highway at Faizabad for Ayodhya,I find myself in the twin towns I knew. The main road is still the same — Vikrams snarl their way in,rickshaws deftly avoid parked cows,the pedestrians and the garbage heaps,an overflowing drain merges into the road,and the threat from crumbling buildings,bricks exposed by the rain,seems more menacing than before. Frozen in time,all the way to the Ayodhya site.

The 2005 terror attack,foiled by alert securitymen who stopped gunmen metres away from the site,has brought about a visible,massive upgrade in security. More barriers have come up,more checks are in place. Barring a wallet,and even that is checked thrice for any hidden SIM card,no other object can be carried to the makeshift temple at the site. No camera,no mobile phone,not even a pen. Every belonging,down to the belt,has to be left at a deposit centre for collection later after a token payment.

Through a wire-mesh corridor,and after being searched at three points,pilgrims are allowed to move single-file till they reach the spot where a pundit points to the idol of Ramlalla — the child Ram sits some metres away on a raised mound,the spot where the central dome of the Masjid once towered — and tells them to say their prayers. Offerings are made quickly,the prasad distributed,and the single file is told to move on. No one is allowed to delay the exit.

Policemen watch from every corner,as do the monkeys who seem to be the only ones allowed unrestricted movement.

The pilgrim flow this season has been a trickle,blamed on the rains and the uncertainty over the fallout of the Allahabad High Court ruling on the title suits. All along the narrow lane leading to the disputed site,the policemen are the only shoppers,examining strings of beads,prayer books and brassware. When they are not haggling over the prices,they are busy clicking photographs with cellphone cameras,recording for posterity their stint in Ayodhya.

At the Ramlalla Mobile Centre,Ghanshyam is arguing with a policeman: “How can you blame me if your phone has no signal? Check with your bosses,they may be jamming the signal.” He turns to me: “Does your phone have the signal?” When I nod,he scowls and returns to the policeman: “Check if your SIM card is in the right place. There is nothing wrong with the handset.”

Business is bad,says Ghanshyam. “As long as this dispute is on,I can never be sure. Every time there is an announcement about Ayodhya,I shut shop. I can’t take a chance. It is the only thing I have.”

As I turn away from his shop,a boy,barely in his teens,tugs at my shirt. “Take me as your guide. For only Rs 10,I will show you Janmabhoomi,Kanak Bhawan,Sita Rasoi,Janaki Mandir,Bada Sthan,Hanuman Garhi.” I tell him I am a reporter,I don’t need a guide since I have seen these places. He doesn’t give up: “Only Rs 5. I am hungry.”

In sweet shops,plates of laddoos are stacked in tubelight-lit glass cases. But there are no buyers. Even in the worst of days,sweet shops in Ayodhya always had people. The khadaus — most makers of these wooden slippers are Muslims — have few takers. Sadhus have stopped trooping in and the khadaus that sat so well on their feet are gathering dust.

Nagendra Upadhyaya probably has the answer: “No one is calling them to Ayodhya anymore. The Ram temple plan is in deep freeze.” He should know. Upadhyaya is the supervisor of the Ram Janmabhoomi Nyas Karyashala,once a beehive of activity where workers from Rajasthan and Gujarat worked on stone columns and pillars for the proposed temple at the disputed site. When I was there last,they were busy chiselling away,using noisy machines to cut giant stone slabs. Today,the machines are silent and the place is deserted.

Surrounded by the stones and with only policemen for company,Upadhyaya sits next to a wooden model of the temple,designed by architect Chandrakant Sompura. “The workers are all gone. The last lot left in January 2008. Work had stopped. We told them to go home,look after their families and wait for the call to return.”

So when does he think that call will go out? Upadhyaya takes a deep breath. “It can only be when the country passes a law for a temple at the site. But that can only happen when a party committed to the temple comes to power on its own at the Centre.” He feels let down by the BJP. “There are differences within. The new lot of leaders is different from the earlier ones. But I see hope in Narendra Modi.”

Upadhyaya has been in Ayodhya since 1994. “I retired from the Army and began a truck service in my hometown,Ranchi. But once I came to Ayodhya,I made this my home.” He points to a portrait of Parmahans Ramchandra Das,the head of the Digambar Akhara and president of the Nyas who died in 2003: “Had he been around,things would have been different.”

Reporters like me who covered the Ayodhya campaign of the Sangh Parivar in the 1990s were familiar with the ways of Parmahans. He was their pointsman here and ranked high in the Parivar pantheon. And he knew our tribe well. “You write about the Ram temple from comfortable hotel rooms. Why don’t you spend a night at a Hindu home and the next night at a Muslim home . You will have a story. But you won’t do that because you cannot stay two nights without your quota of rum and mutton,” he once told me.

Parmahans is dead,so is Omkar Bhave,the VHP vice-president who camped in Ayodhya for long spells. Karsevakpuram,a VHP camp,is deserted. The headquarters of Mahant Nritya Gopal Das at Mani Ram Das Ki Chhawni — or Chhoti Chhawni — used to be a temporary home for the saffron brotherhood.

But it is so quiet now that you can hear a pin drop. Barring a few men deep in prayer,there is nobody around. From his seat in a dark corner,Gaddi Nashin Ram Ratan Das says the Mahant has stopped entertaining visitors,especially from the media. “He is on a maun vrat. He has stopped reading newspapers. He will not speak on the temple issue. He has had a bitter experience. He says one thing and the media reports the opposite.”

Ram Ratan Das doesn’t get along with the VHP. “Ashok Singhal once came to Mahantji but he turned him away. Ayodhya is not VHP property,is it? And why go on with this talk of will-there-be-a-mandir or will-there-be-a-masjid? Ramlalla is already there. Can you ever remove him from that place?”

In Faizabad,Shaukat Ali doesn’t want to get into this debate. He has arrived from Basti. Stepping off a Vikram,he points to his grandson,held in the arms of a burqa-clad woman. “He has had fever for three days. The hakim gave him some medicine. But my daughter-in-law is not convinced. She watches TV. She told me about a fever that kills. So we have come to Faizabad. We will take him to a good doctor. The boy is my worry,not this Ayodhya issue. I have to think of his future. He has to have a good education so that he earn enough when he grows up. We want to move to a city.”

All around Ali are boards that promise a future — mobile technology training centre, English speaking centre,computer language learning centre. One promises to make you a laptop-repairman in 90 days,assuring incomes of up to Rs 50,000. The Basic Training Certificate course,which trains teachers for primary education,is in great demand; its curriculum designed by the National Council for Teacher Education.

A career in TV is a big draw. Faizabad’s local channel Saket News is reaching out to homes in Ambedkar Nagar,Barabanki,Lucknow,Balrampur,Sravasti and Basti. Its website has had over 1.4 lakh visitors.

In restaurants,college students talk about Facebook,blogs,BlackBerrys,the Salman Khan-starrer Dabangg and the new Chevrolet Beat. This is a generation removed from Ayodhya,many born after the Babri demolition. For them,there is life beyond Ayodhya. In spite of Ayodhya. A few good things did happen here while I was away.