Tensions rising

The day we left for our Tamil Nadu trip, a suicide bomber in the disputed territory of Jammu and Kashmir blew up a military convoy of Indian troops, killing 40 soldiers. This territory, in the far north, has been fought over since the British left India; India and Pakistan have already fought two wars over it. The Fulbright commission forbids grantees from going there.

Within 48 hours, I started noticing giant posters in the center of the small Tamil towns we passed through.

I couldn't believe that in a place that seems at times so disorganized and so slow moving, someone could organize the community to create and mount these posters so quickly.

We asked Mr Prahbu if we were interpreting correctly, that these were memorials to the dead soldiers in the Pulwama attack. He affirmed it, and then talked at length about the individual men who had been killed. He knew how many were from south India and where they were from, which ones had a newborn baby, which were recently married.

At the same time, Michael started to get a lot of memes broadcast to his running group, the Orange Runners, on WhatsApp. (I had asked him earlier: is the "orange" a reference to Hindutva? are you in a religious nationalist running club?)

Not just somber memorials like this were shared. A few days later, India bombed what they claimed was a terrorist training camp for Jaish-e-Mohammed, the group that took credit for the attack, crossing into Pakistani territory to do so. They claimed to have killed 300 terrorists and destroyed the camp. The Orange Runners circulated a video that appeared to be footage taken from the fighter planes themselves, showing bombs dropping and exploding and aircraft guns killing men who fled on foot.

But Pakistan immediately claimed this was false. International reporters seemed to confirm Pakistan's story, going to the site, Balakot, and interviewing villagers who said it was loud when the bombs dropped but no one was killed except some trees and one crow.

Things got murkier still. India claimed that Pakistan had attempted to enter Indian airspace but had been repulsed, yet in the process Pakistan had succeeded in shooting down two aircraft and had incontrovertible proof: they had captured an Indian pilot, Abhinandan. At the Fulbright conference last week, an announcement was made that airspace across northern India had been closed for several hours, but had reopened.

I was aghast at the outright lying by the government about what was happening, and at the jingoism of the news media. (Yes, I know, the lying by the US government is massive, too, but imagine if our military claimed to have killed 300 terrorists and no reporters insisted on proof?) There are certainly protests arguing for peace, and #saynotowar was a big presence on social media. But also, tensions are rising and nationalism is increasing. Air India issued an order that "jai hind!" will be said at the end of every onboard announcement (most pilots are former air force officers, like our neighbor here). Film producers have already bought the rights to "Pulwama," "Balakot," and "Abhinandan," and these glorious moments of Indian bravery are already making it into school curriculums. 

The national election is approaching: Modi's five year term ends in May and he is required to call elections before then. At first this attack seemed to play right into his nationalist brand, but when the pilot was captured the narrative shifted to one of Indian fecklessness and Modi's weakness. Here in Kochi, conflict feels very far away. Kochi is so religiously diverse, and from my outsider's vantage point India's multilingualism and religious tolerance is both admirable and essential in such a diverse place. That diversity sits uneasily with the strong nationalism currently on display.