Showing posts with label Afzal Guru. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Afzal Guru. Show all posts

Friday, 15 February 2013

The Afzal Guru front page Kashmiris didn’t see


Front_page_of_a_Srinagar-based_daily._police_seized_all_the_copies_of_the_newspaper


The front-page of the English daily newspaper, Kashmir Reader, on February 10, the day after the Parliament attack convict,Afzal Guru, was suddenly hanged in Delhi.

This newspaper, like all others in the valley didn’t see the light of day because of a “gag” on the media, which the State’s chief minister Omar Abdullah denies was ever imposed.

Sans serif

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

The indecency of a secret execution

Between Afzal Guru's hanging at Tihar and the executions of Satwant
Singh and Kehar Singh at the same jail lies a gap of 24 years. In this
time, India has risen tremendously in economic and strategic terms but
the decline in our collective morality is evident in the indecorous
secrecy which has attended the latest execution. When Indira Gandhi's
assassins were hanged on January 6, 1989, the country had still not
emerged from a crippling insurgency in Punjab that had raged through
the State for most of that decade and taken the lives of thousands of
people. Yet, India appeared a far more confident democracy then. The
government of Rajiv Gandhi did not hide the President's rejection of
the mercy petitions of Satwant and Kehar; both men were allowed an
eleventh hour opportunity to contest that rejection in the Supreme
Court. When the court dismissed their petitions, the date of their
execution was made public. Their families were allowed inside the jail
for a final goodbye. As many as 20 members of Kehar Singh's family and
13 of Satwant Singh's family, including his father, were given
permission to meet the condemned men. Though not all of them managed
to get access, at least they were spared the shock of being informed
after the hangings, not to speak of the shabby indecency of a
notification sent through the postal system that reaches two days
later.

By trotting out claims about the threat to law and order in order to
justify keeping Guru's execution under wraps, the government has shown
itself in even poorer light, as if its law-enforcing machinery is
helpless before such threats. Of course that is not true, and it was
used as an excuse. Both in Guru's case and in Ajmal Kasab's, what the
government clearly wanted was a smooth road to the gallows, one that
would be free of legal challenges or a last minute reprieve, such as
the one granted by the Madras High Court to the three death row
convicts in the Rajiv Gandhi assassination case. But in doing so, the
government has gone against not just all democratic norms but
fundamental human decency. It has also insulted the country's judicial
system, for the secrecy that attended Kasab's hanging succeeded in
taking away from what was otherwise considered a fair trial. The least
the government can do now to make amends for its atrocious behaviour
towards Guru's family is to give them access to his grave in Tihar.
Something can still be salvaged from this shameful episode if the
government is goaded into adopting proper rules for informing the
family members of a condemned man about his impending execution. All
this, of course, pending that day when political India is able to work
up the humanity to abolish the death penalty itself.

The Hindu

Don't agonize over my death, Afzal Guru wrote in last letter

NEW DELHI: The morning that Afzal Guru was to be executed, he wrote a
letter to his wife, Tabassum. Written in Urdu, he handed it over to
jail officials before he was marched out for his execution.

"He pressed the letter into the jail superintendent's hand just before
he was asked to step out of his cell. All he said was that it was
meant for his wife and to please ensure that it reached her safely,"
said a senior Tihar official.

"It was his last wish. We have sent the letter through Speed Post as
that is the only mode available to us and should reach the family
soon," he added. Afzal would frequently pen down his thoughts in jail
and always had access to pen and paper, said officials, and wrote the
letter using the same stationery.

Officials said that Afzal in the letter only wrote about family
matters. "It was an extremely personal letter where he told his wife
to take care of their son and not agonize over his death. In very
gently worded language, he said that she should remain strong for
their son and not give in to despair. As ever, Guru was calm and
dignified in his parting words," said a source.

"The family should be able to read the letter in private and should
share it with public if they wish to. In deference to their privacy,
they should not again have to find out about their family member
through national media. All we can say is that it was only related to
his personal life and did not deal with any national matter," he
added.

The family, based in Sopore in Kashmir, is yet to receive the letter.
The entire plan for Afzal's execution, named 'Operation Three Star',
was planned to the last detail, said prison sources. "It was named
Operation Three Star because it took place in the jail number 3
premises. All jail officials concerned were briefed and all of them
stayed in jail through the night on Friday and finalized all
preparations. Contrary to certain media reports, where he would be
buried and what all procedure would be maintained was pre-decided and
the entire process was completed by 9am. All decisions were made as
per detailed talks with the government," said a highly-placed source
in Tihar.

"There has been much speculation on his final day, some of which is
wrong. He did not spend a sleepless night before his execution. He was
one of the most model prisoners in jail, and did not create any
trouble till the last," he added.

TOI

Monday, 11 February 2013

Politics beyond the noose

Pratap Bhanu Mehta Posted online: Mon Feb 11 2013, 03:26 hrs
It is the peculiar indignity of our republic that the odour of
conspiracy so often attaches itself to death. Far from bringing a
dignified closure to a serious episode, Afzal Guru's execution raises
several political challenges. There is such a deeply entrenched
suspicion among so many sections of Indian society that it is perhaps
worth beginning by resetting some presumptive courtesies citizens
should extend to each other. If you read the Supreme Court judgment
upholding Afzal Guru's sentence in its entirety, it is very hard to
sustain the charge that the court is being malicious, biased or has no
concern for fairness. It does quite a job of sifting through various
arguments. Indeed, there are moments where it is easy to use the
court's own scrupulousness against it. The crime is serious. Even
though Afzal Guru was not a regular member of a terrorist
organisation, the court was convinced that he was part of a
conspiracy. And the court came to a judgment, according to its best
lights.
Having said that, it is not unreasonable for someone to disagree with
the court's final determination. The disagreement turns on two
judgement calls. Was the quality of representation at the stage of the
first trial so inadequate as to cast doubt on whether Afzal Guru got a
fair defence? This question is particularly germane when the death
penalty is being awarded. And second, was the death sentence the right
punishment for the crime? Raising these questions should not be out of
bounds. Those campaigning on Afzal Guru's behalf are not enemies of
democracy. On the contrary, they are strengthening it. If anything,
India is more likely to be strengthened, not by the hangman's noose,
but the candour and quality of its public discussion. Civil society
can sometimes be too presumptuous in attributing bias to the state;
equally it has to be said that the state is sometimes too quick to
dismiss those who might think it has made a mistake. Let us at least
grant some good faith disagreement in judgment.

This is not a question of being evasively even-handed between the
state and its critics. For what it's worth, this column has
consistently argued against the death penalty. Every hanging is
potentially a dark day for justice. It has also pointed out that even
the courts make mistakes. In this instance, though, at least from the
outside, there does not seem to be damning evidence of bad faith in
the judicial process itself. The courts took a call, with all the
attendant imperfections that are associated with the process. And we
have to give that call some presumptive authority; and the state has
to act upon it.

But there is a question about the narrative surrounding the execution.
There is a good reason for granting the executive some discretion over
the administering of the death penalty. It would be a mistake to take
away that discretion. This discretion gives more opportunity to
wrestle with any residual doubts the executive might have in death
penalty cases; they are in a special class. It is rightly premised on
the idea that executions can be political acts, not in a narrow
partisan sense, but in the sense that larger political issues
affecting the nation can be taken into account. The question is not
one of discretion, but whether it can be exercised credibly and
fairly. And here is where the state fails. It has failed to project
its own credibility for several reasons.

The biggest threat to the credibility of the Indian state is
loose-talking politicians and officials. Justice must not just be
done; in a state that cares for legitimacy it must be seen to be done.
We can only speculate on the immediate political logic that drove the
timing of the decision. But, politics apart, the executive does have a
structural crisis of credibility: its own conduct makes it
untrustworthy. One day Digvijaya Singh is casting doubt on the
integrity of the state and castigating it for false prosecutions. The
next day he is evoking the same state to shore up the Congress's
credentials on the war on terror. Sushilkumar Shinde, one day, makes
grave accusations of the RSS and the BJP being associated with terror
and then fails to follow through on the logic of his own argument; the
next day, he is trying to project a state above politics. The irony of
the Congress, in public, trying to shore up its credentials on the war
on terror, while Narendra Modi goes on about growth, is not being
lost. It is lending credence to the suspicion that the Congress,
perhaps even more than the BJP, has an investment in keeping
communalism alive as a political issue. The BJP, for its part, will
never learn the lesson that a credible justice system requires a
certain matter-of-factness in civil society; not a breast-beating call
for death. When you look at the conduct of this lot, it has been hard
not to harbour doubts about the kind of considerations that move their
decisions. This is a real political problem. They demand from citizens
a presumptive authority in the state. But they have done precious
little to make it credible. This crisis is only going to get
exacerbated.

It has also been exacerbated by the fact that the absence of any
political leadership has made articulating the so-called political
conscience of the nation difficult. It is now a free-for-all, where
every politician speaks without any sense of responsibility. Words
alone do not matter, but discourse from politicians that does not do
justice to the moral complexity of the matter undermines trust.

The Indian state has, again unwittingly, exposed its deep fragility.
It had to take precautions in Jammu and Kashmir against violence. But
how long can the Indian state continue on the presumption of distrust
against ordinary Kashmiris? In the guise of saving them, the Centre
wastes no opportunity to underscore its essential suspicion of
Kashmir: it isolates it, cuts it off from elementary connections of
modern life like internet and cable television, puts virtually the
whole state under curfew. This is not the sign of a state tough on the
war on terror. It is the sign of a state too frightened of its own
people, too easily ready to sequester them. Both the BJP and the
Congress will serve India better if, the next time they want to appear
tough on the war on terror, they measure themselves by their ability
to bring Kashmir into the fold of normal life. We may have hanged
Afzal Guru. But the process of restoring the larger credibility of the
state has barely begun.

The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, Delhi

Indian Express

In Tihar, officials feel ‘tinge of sorrow’

'Al vida', said Afzal Guru to his executioner, who had himself bid him
good bye with the same words a few seconds earlier. And then as the
executioner pulled a lever, Afzal's frame hung from the gallows.

"He was dead in a minute, though", as per the jail norms, the body was
kept hanging for a full half hour, said an official who witnessed the
hanging. Thereafter Afzal's body was taken down from the gallows and
buried with full religious rites near Jail No. 3, right next to the
grave of Kashmiri separatist Maqbool Butt who too was hanged in Tihar.

"But there is a difference between the two. While Butt was a
separatist leader, Afzal never spoke about secession of Kashmir from
India. In fact, he used to tell us that he had been unnecessarily
dragged into this. In fact, he actually believed in ridding India of
corruption," the official added. He spoke to The Hindu on condition he
not be identified because he was not authorised to speak to the press.

While right-wing activists across the country celebrated Afzal's
execution, in the jail itself there was no celebration. Rather, the
staff appeared glum. "He was a pious soul and was extremely well
behaved. Even as he was being taken to the gallows, he greeted the
jail staff he knew by their first names. The only thing he requested
before the hanging was that 'mujhay ummeed hai aap mujhay dard nahin
karaogay' (I hope you will not cause me pain). And he was assured by
the executioner, who himself was overcome with emotion as he kept
looking into his eyes as the black cloth was drawn over them, that it
would be a smooth journey. And so it was."

Contrary to some media reports, Afzal was told of his impending
execution on the actual morning and not the previous evening.

"The only thing he had in the morning was a cup of tea. But that is
because he was not offered any food. Otherwise, he was so normal that
he would have had that too." Initially Afzal was wearing a pheran, or
Kashmiri gown. He later took bath and changed into a white
kurta-pyjama and offered namaz.

"There have been about 25 executions in Tihar and senior officials
[here] have witnessed the last 10, but never have they seen a man so
calm and composed on learning the news of his impending death."

In the last couple of hours of his life, Afzal had the company of some
jail officials. And he narrated to them his thoughts about life and
death. "He spoke of universal brotherhood and oneness of the mankind;
how no human being is bad and how the soul in each one was a creation
of the same God. He believed that if you moved on the path of truth,
that was the biggest achievement."

In fact, Afzal was so calm in the morning that he even penned down
some of his thoughts, put the date and time on the paper and signed
it.

When asked by the jail staff about his last thoughts of his family, on
who would take care of them, Afzal said "it was God who looks after
each one of us and so would be the case now".

"His strength came from his spirituality. He was a learned man; as
well versed in Islam as with Hinduism. Often, he would tell us about
the similarities in the two religions. Some time ago he had read all
the four Vedas. How many Hindus have actually done that? You normally
rejoice at the end of evil, [but] when a pious soul goes away, it
leaves behind a tinge of sorrow," the official said.

Recalling, how all through Afzal was "joyful" as also "cool and calm",
the officials said in the past they have seen people shiver at being
told about their being taken to the gallows. "But here it was just
like what we had heard about people going to the gallows smiling."

Another difference between Afzal and others who were executed for
terrorist crimes terrorists, the official said, was that while almost
all others had made religious or political cries before being hanged,
Afzal just walked the last 100 steps from his cell to the gallows as
he normally would and went away wishing those around him.

The Hindu