In the end, it wasn''t a temple and a mosque co-existence solution.
It wasn''t a temple and a mosque at some distance solution.
It wasn''t a temple in exchange for a moratorium on Kashi and Mathura solution.
Instead, it was a temple in Ayodhya followed by temples and only temples in Kashi and Mathura solution.
It was a nothing in return solution.
It was a take and take solution.
It was a bend-them-to-your-will solution.
It wasn''t a solution at all.
This is the way wars are fought. In war, the aim is total conquest. You attack to humiliate. You seek abject surrender. In peace, you take some, you give some and seal the truce. Or you put the conflict on the back burner in the hope that time — and better sense — will find its own solution. Meanwhile, you move on and let others move on.
In many ways this is worse than war. For even the bitterest wars come to an end, so that wounds can heal and life can begin afresh. But the Ayodhya warriors have been able to hurt and wound without a pause. In the over 10 years since the Babri mosque was torn down, there has hardly been a time when the temple issue did not dominate public discourse. Even more loudly so during election time.
How often must we go through the drill? Step one: The Vishwa Hindu Parishad will set a date for temple construction coinciding with a crucial election. Step two: The BJP will distance itself from the move and reassert its commitment to the NDA agenda. Step three: Undeterred, the VHP — now backed by the RSS — will announce a programme of pujas to be conducted in the scintillating vicinity of the make-shift temple. Step four: Pilgrims will start to descend on the temple town in large numbers. Step five: The assemblage will assume the dimensions of a law and order problem. Step six: The BJP will transit to making approving noises. Step seven: A party spokesman will quote from documents to pronounce the ceremonies legal. Step eight: The NDA constituents will protest but nonetheless express confidence in the secular credentials of Atalji.
Of course, in order that the tempo doesn''t flag, the script allows for minor variations. Once in a while one among the VHP sadhus will issue an ultimatum — "puja or I''ll end my life" — pushing the crowds to such a frenzy of excitement that by the time the exercise ends, the gathering is fairly brimming with energy. Energy which must find its release in the upcoming elections, or on occasion, in cataclysmic events of the kind that rocked Gujarat.
Then there is the ''solution-finding'' process, another elaborate ritual that involves one or another political top boss — often no less than the prime minister — one or another holy man and much toing and froing between the two camps. We went through it with Narasimha Rao, with Chandra Shekhar, and most recently when Atalji joined forces with the Kanchi seer. Jog your memory and journey back to January-February last year, to the time just before the UP elections.
That was when the prime minister had promised that Ayodhya would be solved, finally and forever, by March that year. And that was when the Kanchi seer had given an assurance that the court verdict will be honoured. Nothing came of it. Except for the ritual of puja and ultimatums in Ayodhya, followed by elections in UP, followed by the horror of Godhra and its calamitous after-effects, followed by more puja and ultimatums in Ayodhya.
But hope springs eternally in human hearts. Which is why we witnessed so much optimism around the renewed effort at solving the temple dispute. And despite the mandatory larger-than-life presence of the VHP-RSS shouting brigade. The Kanchi seer spoke the language of compromise, promised a just solution and perhaps, most importantly, he conveyed the impression that he was sensitive to the vulnerabilities of the other side.
No wonder there was elation all around. The air buzzed with talk of an honourable settlement. There was such a sense of gratitude for the seer''s initiative that intellectual opinion began to veer round to the temple option: A temple on the disputed site in exchange for a guarantee that there will be no further demands, no future conflict. After all, the temple was a fait accompli.
It was evident too that the Muslims had reached the end of their tether and would settle for anything that looked like a face-saver. The All-India Muslim Personal Law Board bent over backwards to please. There was not one wrong step this time. Board members conveyed through words and gesture that they had the highest respect for the seer and would seriously consider his proposal.
They also let it be known — through the medium of "sources" — that they would donate the temple land in return for status quo on Kashi and Mathura. A known hardliner like Syed Shahabuddin was quoted as saying, "We will help build the temple, but give us little space for the masjid. Bechari masjid ko thodi si jagah dijiye."
For the community, peace had become a more vital imperative than Babri masjid. If the loss of one masjid could ensure that they would never again go through the trauma of ''Best Bakery'', it was worth the bargain.
In the end, it turned out to be a winner-takes- all solution. Come next elections, the Ayodhya roadshow will roll out again.