Essaying a "NO"

Raju Korti
There is more "No" in no than there is "Yes" in yes. If that confounds or befuddles you, let me lean on Sigmund Freud according to whom a denial or abnegation is a sort of psychological defense mechanism in which a person is faced with a fact that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence.
Let me demystify. Ajmal Kasab denied he carried out terror attacks, Shahrukh Khan denied he misbehaved at Wankhede Stadium, Chidambaram and A Raja denied their roles in 2G scam, the Army denied it planned to take over the country, Kripa Shankar Singh denied he made ill-gotten money, Bill Clinton denied he had a fling with a White House intern, Manmohan Singh denied any wrongdoings by his goverment, Dawood Ibrahim denied he runs a betting syndicate, "Hindu Dons" Chhota Rajan and Arun Gawli denied they were running extortion rackets, Barkha Dutt denied she had anything to do with Radiagate, BCCI President N Srinivasan denied any role in fixing and what have you. If you thought denials were an individual thing, there is Pakistan which as a nation lives in a state of perpetual denial. The list is illustrious and unending.
There is something very emphatic and decisive about a denial than in an acquiescence. Clinically, denials may have their darker and brighter sides but staying in denial can tinker with you ability to tackle challenges.
As someone who has spent over three decades in journalism, I can vouch for the importance (or not!) of a denial. Everyday, newspapers and TV channels are inundated by any number of press releases where someone or the other keeps denying something or the other. But by far the most bizarre one that I experienced came from a murder convict who shot off a handout to all local newspapers, denying he had committed the crime. Probably his conscience was guided by the philosophy that a good denial is the best point in law and its power can never be under-rated.
Let me not paint a "no" with a black brush. Psychologists have written article galore on how respecting your own boundaries lies in a conscientious "no". Half the troubles of life can be traced to saying yes too quickly and not saying no soon enough. Tactically and otherwise!
So today I invite you to join me in remembering it’s OK to say no, and our world won’t fall apart because of it.

Its OK to say no if you don’t feel moved by an opportunity -- no matter how exciting it might sound to someone else. Happiness is a choice, but it’s made up of lots of smaller choices we need to make based on what we actually want.
It’s OK to say no if you’d rather relax than go out -- no matter how many other people think you should be social. Only we know when we need to recharge and take care of ourselves, so it’s up to us to recognize and honor that.
It’s OK to say no if you’d need to sacrifice your needs to help someone else -- even if a part of you feels a little guilty about it. People are always going to have requests. Sometimes we’ll be able to help; sometimes we won’t. We’re still good people regardless.
It’s OK to say no because you don’t have time -- even if you don’t know right in this moment when you’ll be more available. We’re allowed to say no without hinting toward a future yes.
It’s OK to say no without a detailed excuse -- even if you feel like you should offer one. “This doesn’t feel right for me right now” is a perfectly valid reason.
Lastly, it’s OK to say no even if you’ve already said yes, if you realize you weren’t being true to yourself. It’s far better to make the right decision late than follow through with the wrong one because you think you should.
A civil "no" is much better than a rude grant.

The "Red" Alert!

Raju Korti

Having covered Naxals and Naxalism extensively for well over two decades between 1979 and 1999 as a professional journalist has proffered its own advantages. I recall vividly doing a story for The Hindu's Frontline magazine in which I had pointed out how the Marxist-Leninist "ideological" movement -- that originated  from West Bengal's Naxalbari and later flourished on the borders of Maharashtra, Madhya Pradeh, Andhra Pradesh and Orissa -- had degenerated into plain brigandry by mid-80s. With the death of Kondapalli Seetharamiah of the People's War Group, easily their most influential ideologue around the time, the movement had started lapsing into mindless violence in the name of protecting hapless tribals and the poor. Scouring the labyrinthine and unpredictable jungles of the Naxal-infested areas of Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh, I realised that the much vaunted claim of the Maoists to protect the poor, have-not tribals from exploitation by the haves wasn't on a sound footing. The simple reason was if the government succeeded in their proverty alleviation programmes and development came the tribals' way, the Naxals would have no plank and would be rendered redundant. Of course, their case was helped by most governmental schemes for the uplift and development of tribals being brought to a nought by corrupt officials, unscrupulous landlords and overzealous police.
Ironically, the appreciation for the article came from those assigned the task of spreading Maoist influence in urban areas and running its propaganda wing -- Kobad Ghandy and his wife Anuradha Shanbhag Ghandy. I found Kobad and his Sociology professor wife too soft-spoken and well read to be involved in a violent movement. Of course, at the time, I had little inkling that Kobad, who was a Special Correspondent with  The Sunday Observer was the founding member of Committee for the Protection of Democratic Rights. He was also believed to be in touch with global ultra-Left organisations. Taking into consideration his ability to analyse the national and international developments, he was also entrusted with the job of building up the Naxal movement in urban areas. Which is how he was finally arrested from Delhi sometime in 2009.
Tall and decently dressed, the fair and bespectacled Kobad was very articulate. His voice hardly rose beyond a whisper. His wife was, however, more vocal.
Though the violent Naxalite movement began in Maharashtra in Gadchiroli division abutting Andhra Pradesh three decades ago, it had failed to spread to other areas. In Kerala too the Naxalites had failed to make much of an impact. Karnataka, where the movement was relatively strong just a decade ago, had seen a split in the rank and file of Maoists after a section of leaders leaders questioned the very principle of area- wise seizure of power starting from forest areas. Ever since the split, the Maoist party failed to strike roots in the state and Kobad was drafted for bringing about a rapproachment.
Interestingly, the Ghandys never discussed Maoism. Each time we met, the talks would centre around journalism. I would often wonder why Anuradha never came to journalism as she would speak very animatedly about things like news selection, headlines, display, layouts and story-writing. Having seen the way she wrote and her understanding of various issues, I had no doubts she would have made a great journalist. But the slim and good-looking Anuradha would laugh it off whenever I suggested her to take up the profession. "You know Raju, I have this activist's mindset, and with Kobad, I have decided to spend my life for the cause of poor tribals in the jungles of Chandrapur, Bhamragarh, Aalapalli, Gadchiroli," she would announce, an air of vehemence in her voice.
It wasn't long before I discovered that the couple had links with the Committee for Protection of Democratic Rights. A junior colleague brought to my notice that the CPDR and other Naxal front outfit hand-outs were usually delivered by Anuradha. Quizzed, she made absolutely no secret of her and her husband's Maoist affililiations and I found it hard to believe that they were connected with such a violent movement, ideology and justifications kept by the side.
One day both vanished and for a long time there were only speculations about their whereabouts. In any case, both never lived like conventional husband and wife and seemed more like a team dedicated to a cause. Their's was a marriage of ideas. The last I heard about Anuradha was she died of cerebral malaria in the jungles of Dandakaranya in central India sometime in 2002. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but she had opted for that life of her own volition.
My brief but meaningful interaction with the Ghandys vindicated the focus of my story that the Naxal movement had shed its original credo and was meandering into a cult of needless bloodshed. At the other end of the spectrum, I had seen the PWG leader Seetharamiah whose charisma and knowledge had the potential to turn a right winger into Leftist in no time.
Naxalism has undergone a paradigm shift in the last 15 years. The movement, one-stitch-social-one-stich blood is now mired in the kind of violence that you cannot distinguish from the one unleashed by the terrorists in the name of religion. Both have cadres committed to destabilization of state without any pretensions to meaningful dialogue across the table. And both, potential threats.