Mirror, Mirror, Who's The Biggest Goon Of Them All?

Why is this man not in jail?

There's something so sexy about the politics of hate. It pays immediate dividends and quickly polarises the masses, which, anyway, is the most important objective of hate politics. Ask Adolf Hitler, or ask Narendra Modi, or even the latest posterboy of divisive politics, Raj Thackeray.

In case you are one of those ignorant ones who don't know who Raj Thackeray is, then let me enlighten you. He is the charming young man who is running the "Maharashtra for Marathis" campaign that has provoked a mass exodus of north Indians from Mumbai, and other parts of Maharashtra.

The fellow is certainly not lacking in inspiration -- Hitler is his idol and Modi, his neighbour. Besides there was plenty of homegrown inspiration to look up to, as well. As a child, young Raj watched his uncle Bal Thackeray's journey from smalltime thug to Maharashtra's most feared man.

The uncle managed to get attention by holding cricket matches to ransom. His goons would dig up cricket pitches when India was to take on Pakistan.The nephew has learnt well. He started his hate campaign by targetting Amitabh Bachchan. The selection of such a target immediately and automatically ensured sustained media publicity.

Some sections of the national media have described the campaign as nasty and violent but there is certain degree of unanimity about the effectiveness of the campaign of terror. Television channels have been beaming images of terrified migrants, clutching their belongings, and taking the first train out of Maharashtra.

I personally think Raj Thackeray doesn't have anything against north Indians, per se. I also think -- I really do -- Hitler didn't hate the Jews, and Modi too doesn't hold any grudge against Muslims. It is just that Thackeray realises politically it is expedient to say these nasty things against north Indians.

Also the idea is not to drive every non-Maharashtrian out of Maharashtra. Raj Thackeray is anything but stupid. He knows Mumbai wouldn't be half as much fun without Ratan Tata, the Ambani brothers or Shahrukh Khan, none of whom are Marathis. He just wants everyone to know, in the words of Bhiku Matrey, in the Bollywood movie, Satya, "Mumbai ka don kaun? (Who is the don of Mumbai?)"

Thackeray must be pleased as punch with the response to his hate campaign. There's already an exodus of north Indians and even some some not-so-north Indians from Bombay, oops Mumbai, and other parts of Maharashtra. The trains to Uttar pradesh and Bihar have been packed with migrants the past few days. Also a message has been sent to cousin Udhav and uncle Bal Thackeray that he is the rightful heir to the legacy of hate.

But he knows while his little terror act has served its limited purpose, he has to plan -- and execute -- things on a far bigger scale if he has to rise further. He knows as a practitioner of politics of hate, you must be ready to take great risks for the sake of greater rewards. Hitler put six million Jews in gas chambers and became the Big Daddy of the hate game. Likewise, Modi presided over an anti-Muslim pogrom that claimed thousands of lives and quickly leapfrogged to the number two position in his own party. Who knows, another strategically timed genocide and the man could be the next Prime Minister of India.

Mmmmm. What a mouthwatering prospect. Narendra Modi as Prime Minister and Raj Thackeray may be as the chief minister of Maharashtra. Just chew on that thought as I have to regretfully attend to other matters.

You see I am originally from Sylhet, in the northern part of Bangladesh. In 1947 when India was partitioned, and Muslim-majority areas were declared part of Pakistan, my grandfather left his ancestral home and the land where he was born and moved to Calcutta. My father, the eldest of five children, got a job in Andaman and Nicobar Islands, off the eastern coast of India, more near Burma than mainland India, in 1956. I spent the first eight years of my life in Port Blair and Diglipur, two of the most beautiful places on God's Earth.

Then in 1971, as India and Pakistan were facing off in what has been their last official conflict, my father decided to shift base to Delhi. I left Andamans somewhat reluctantly, but then I had little say in the matter. I don't particularly like Delhi, though I have lived most of my life here. Among my serious failures I consider is my inability to reolcate myself from this land of nine months of summer.

Today though I am not worried about the coming months of summer. As politics of hate gathers momentum all around me, I don't want to wait for someone like Raj Thackeray to identify me as an "outsider". I mean, look at it from Raj or Narendrabhai's point of view, I am an outsider in most places in India -- Delhi, Calcutta or Andamans.

So don't blame me if I wing it to some part of the world where no one looks too closely at where I come from. Relocation is not easy on anyone, me included. But I have a fine sense of self-preservation. I don't want to hang around and wait for a Thackeray or a Modi to ask me to pack my bags. But you know what?

I am pretty sure as I tighten my seatbelt and look out of the aircraft window for one last look at my country, the man on the seat next to me could well be Lal Krishna Advani. After all, when you boot out a Sylheti, you can't allow someone born and brought up in Karachi, heart of that enemyland called Pakistan, to sully our holy motherland.

Teehee.