In the perennial
battleground of Iraq lies a vibrant society which was once the hope and
pride of the Middle East. India Today's
Ashok Malik travels to the
dream that died. Guns
and Gaiety
INDIA
TODAY CONCLAVE
The
Conclave concludes on a high note. Al Gore, Stanley Fischer and other world
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CARE
TODAY
INDIA
TODAY HINDI
CURRENT
ISSUE NOVEMBER 4, 2002
PHOTO FEATURE: IRAQ
Lost World
Saddam Hussein's kingdom exists
in solitary confinement. Embargoed out of the world's consciousness, Iraq's
self-belief has taken a knocking. It tries to smile; but you can picture
the teardrops.
Photographs by Fawzan Husain; Text by Ashok Malik
It is tempting to look at Iraq as a Hindi movie
script gone horribly over the top. Saddam Hussein is Amrish Puri. Dharmendra
defeated but did not quite demolish him, so now Sunny Deol has sworn to
finish the task-George Bush followed by George W. Bush. Behind such black
humour and the equally facile plans of Pentagon war strategists, there
lies a country of 25 million, a human drama encapsulating every possible
emotion. Iraq's society is more liberal and secular than any other in
the Middle East; Iraq's polity is built around terrorism-the terrorising
of a people by their self-proclaimed emperor.
Iraq used to be the progressive face of Arab Islam, the stabilising,
moderating influence in a region of religious extremes. The energy of
its educated, white-collar middle class was every neighbour's envy. Today,
only a shell survives. An entire value system has collapsed. Iraq was
once throbbing; now it is just tired, very tired. Humiliation in the Gulf
War, 1991, has been compounded by a decade of economic sanctions. It has
taken the luxury of consumerism out of the average Iraqi's life; indeed,
it has consumed the life out of the average Iraqi.
Iraqis fear what American bombs may do to their children but the zeal
with which they rallied around their patriarch through the war with Iran
in the 1980s and then in 1991 has gone. So has the pride and swagger of
the legatees of Mesopotamia, of Sumer, of Babylon. All that they are left
with is nostalgia; and hope.
I DICTATE, WE DO, THEY DRIVE
A couple celebrate their wedding at Baghdad's state-run Ishtar Hotel-it
was once the Sheraton-amid the ubiquitous presence of the "Wise
Man of the Arabs"; (right) Sardar Cars, the city's biggest
auto dealer, still sells 50-60 cars a month, from Mercs old and
new to pick-up trucks. Only a buccaneer elite, enriched by the parallel
economy the embargo has spawned, can afford to buy.
COLD COMFORT, HOT MOVES
Oil is aplenty, water is scarce. An Iraqi improvises his bathtub into
a roadside "shop" to sell fellow Baghdadis what they covet
most-safe drinking water. The concerns at a city party (right) are
altogether different and a throwback to the time when the Iraqi capital's
nightlife still roared.
GETTING ALONG GAMELY
If a cursory survey of poster shops be proof, David Beckham is Iraq's
favourite foreigner. His sport itself is a craze and this repaired-football
salesman (left) appears confident of good business. His compatriots
in a Baghdad cafe wait for their country's luck to change.
WORSHIP, HERO WORSHIP
Saddam's regime is dominated by Sunnis but over 60 per cent of Iraqis
are Shias. In Karbala, Shias from across the world congregate at the
mausoleums of Imam Hussain and (left) Abbas, part of the Prophet's
family. Meanwhile in Baghdad, a motorist dresses up his Volkswagen
Beetle for his leader.