The idiot box as peace maker

people from both sides. I asked them their opinions about the events, the rumours being fuelled. People had a chance to convey their sentiments, express their feelings, their opinions. I showed visual clips of destroyed property. I took my video camera and went to Ravla Baria village, met local residents who let me in. I informed the rest of Beawar about when the masjid had been built, where wazoo is done. People appreciated what I was doing. But the administration did not like it.

Every night the city would watch my programme that attempted to raise questions, air opinions and dispel rumours. The idea was to show, to both sides, that rumours were baseless, that by believing them and not dispelling them, fanaticism grows (kattarta badhti hai.

In Ravla Baria, I asked the villagers who were Muslim: "When you know it is an illegal masjid, why are you objecting to the demolition?" I was shocked and stunned by their reply. I must quote a school-teacher with whom I work closely. She runs a school for girls. She said, "Yeh jo tamaam mandir highway par aap dekhte hain, kya unke paas municipality ki ijaazat hai? Aur agar nahin hai to masjid hi kyon sabki aankhon mein khatak rahi ha?"¿ ("The numerous temples that you see lining this highway, do any of them have municipal permission? And if those, too, are not authorised, why is the masjid alone an issue for everyone?")

"I know that the masjid is illegal. But first, break all the illegal mandirs. I will, then pull down the masjid with my own hands," the school teacher added.

This interview stunned everyone in Beawar when I telecast it on the cable network. People were stunned at the facts unearthed by the coverage.

I interviewed one family in Ajmer at the time when the violence had broken out. What would you have done if you had been in Beawar, I asked. "I would have gone to the leaders of the procession and begged the VHP to stop this madness. Where will it all stop?"

I asked many Muslims, "What about the issue always made about Vande Mataram. What objection do you have to it?"

"Nothing, no objection at all," a good many of those I interviewed replied. "We have no objection and will say so willingly. But what is this threat, ¿bolna hoga?¿ What do you mean when you say it? Yeh dabav hai (This is pressurising us) and that we resent."

Another Muslim added, "Ek doosre ke dharm mein saath rah rahe hain hum; hamaari to Ganga Jamuna ki sanskriti hai; Kya desh ke azaadi mein hamare haath nahin hain? To baar baar aise ghatiya naare kyon?" ("The two faiths have co-existed for centuries. Ours is a genuinely inter-linked culture. Have we not fought for Independence? Then, why these provocative slogans always?")

The interviews were powerful and candid and they made positive stories. We explored life under the curfew and what it meant for people. We showed how police tortured innocent people, detained selectively, and how their families lived through these detentions. We showed the harm caused to both sides but did not gloss over the truth.

Yeh itna prabhav poorna tha ki sara shahar das baje raat ki raah dekhta. (This was so effective that people used to wait for 10 p.m. every night). I received many appreciative letters, too, from my viewers.

But the administration was clearly not happy. Why? Because we showed how women and children living alone, especially Muslims, were harassed. Overturning beds and vessels in small