This story first appeared in The Week

As Khatera Hashmi smoothed the creases from her new salwar kameez—a confection in red and gold that she got for Eid—and arranged her daughter on her lap for a family portrait, a small frown appeared on her smooth brow. “I had told you, hadn’t I? That you should wear a good dress, too, we will be having our pictures taken,” she said. “But you don’t listen to me.”

Her husband, Mohammad Nabi, shrugged helplessly. “You are looking pretty, little Bahar has a new dress on, why bother about how I am looking?” replied Nabi.

Khatera, however, was not pacified. She knows he is wearing a faded tee and shabby shorts—his home clothes. She has smelt and felt them. Nabi looked at us sheepishly, as his wife gave him that wait-till-we-get-home expression.

Khatera is very image-conscious. How she appears to the world is very important for her, even though she can no longer see the world.

India came to know of Khatera’s existence when she came to Delhi in 2020, a living testimony of the Taliban’s brutality. The young woman in her thirties, who only months earlier had finished her training and joined the police force in Ghazni town, had immediately come on the Taliban’s radar. At that time, the Taliban was a guerrilla force, the US troops were still in Afghanistan and Ashraf Ghani was heading the country.

They threatened her against continuing her job—it was not right for a woman to be working. The threats were dire enough for her superiors to suggest she take a transfer to Kabul. Nabi, who owned a cloth shop in the market, headed to Kabul, looking for an accommodation to rent. “It was the afternoon of June 6, 2020. I was walking back from my shift at the police station, which was very close to my house,” recounted Khatera in perfect Hindi. “Suddenly, three men emerged from a narrow lane—two were on a motorcycle, one was on foot. They began hitting me and the scarves they wore around their faces loosened, even as I fell to the ground. I had seen their faces.” That was the last thing Khatera ever saw. She blacked out in pain. The men, ostensibly afraid they would be identified, simply gouged out her eyes with some sharp weapon—no one knows what it was.

“I was reading the namaz when I got a call from Khatera’s friend, saying she was attacked,” recalled Nabi, his Hindi heavily accented and liberally sprinkled with Pashto. “I thought it was a joke and went back to reading the namaz. But then I began feeling uneasy and I called her again. And my world crashed around me.”

Khatera was shunted from hospitals in Ghazni to Kabul. She had injuries all over, but her face was the most battered. “I didn’t think she would survive,” said Nabi. She did, however. And as she recovered, her family dreaded telling her the truth. Around 12 days later, when her injuries were healing, she realised that as the bandage slipped from her eyes, her lids seemed stuck together—they weren’t opening. “I realised I couldn’t see,” she recalled that moment in a surprisingly composed voice. “Vo din mere liye bahut sakth tha [it was a very difficult day for me].”

What Khatera was not to know was that even her eyelids were mutilated. It has taken several painstaking surgeries by the doctors at Dr Shroff’s Charity Eye Hospital in Delhi’s Daryaganj to bring back the beauty of her face. Only, the light they haven’t been able to restore.

However, they have taught her to “see” her world in so many different ways. “With the right rehabilitation, a blind person can be extremely productive,” explained Umang Mathur, executive director of the hospital. Mathur has a soft spot for Afghanistan—he did the end part of his schooling (class nine and ten) there. That was in the 1980s, when Afghanistan, under Russian occupation, was a different world—a place where women sported haircuts and where cabarets were happening.

Khatera resumed her story. “I was plunged into the world of darkness, but there was more trouble awaiting,” she said. Her story was being told and retold in Kabul, and this brought her on the Taliban’s radar again. Amid all the bleakness, however, there was one more development. Doctors discovered she was pregnant. “I wanted to kill myself so many times since the attack,” she said. “But when I came to know I was going to have a child, I got fresh hope.”

Hope has been a shifty companion for Khatera. It has kept her going during the worst times, but it has also crashed the world around her as many times. Hope then took the form of an American charity worker—Stephanie K. Hanson—who came to know of her. Through charitable foundations Orbis and Seva, which work for eyesight restoration and rehabilitation of the blind, she reached out to Dr Shroff’s hospital in India. “With the Taliban focusing on my case, even the government recommended we should go to India for treatment and safety,” said Khatera. Thus, Khatera came to India in December 2020, in the thick of lockdowns, leaving her home, perhaps, forever.

India, for many Afghans, is a land of dreams. It is the solution to their problems. It brims over with possibilities. Khatera came over, clinging on to a hope that the miracle of vision would happen in India. “As of today, we can only do corneal transplants to restore vision. In her case, both the eyes had been mutilated,” explained Dr Sima Das, head of the hospital’s oculoplasty and ocular oncology services. In the months before she was shifted to Delhi, the local doctors had anyway removed all the eye tissue. Mathur said that the practice these days was to retain as much of the original tissue, because, sometimes, despite the worst trauma, miracles happened. It could only be a perception of light and dark, but for a patient, even that small perception is a huge empowerment. “The Israeli doctors always recommend saving original tissue,” he explained, but added that ground realities are often very different, and doctors have to take on-the-spot decisions. In Khatera’s case, the mutilation was so bad that she even required reconstructive surgery on the eye sockets.

The months that followed were a series of surgeries and recoveries as doctors rebuilt her face. She even had hearing loss in one ear because of the injuries, which has been improved vastly.

Khatera recalled the day when her last hope shattered. The technicians were taking her measurements for artificial eyes. “I knew then that this is my reality.” Khatera’s new eyes may be sightless, but they are beautiful works of art, painstakingly hand-painted to replicate what her actual eyes must once have been like. She wears them proudly, they give her confidence in her looks. She “sees” things in different ways, however.

Sonia Srivastava, assistant manager, low vision services, was the messiah who brought a new light to Khatera’s life, guiding her through a rehabilitation process that helps her use hands, ears and nose as her new visual aids. The process is slow, often frustrating, but the results are game-changers. “I used to be so scared to be alone,” recalled Khatera. “I would not allow my husband to leave the room. I could not even turn on an electric switch. I used to be scared I would get an electric shock.”

Nabi has loyally stood by her side, taking on every setback with a brave front, and rejoicing in every small progress. Blessed with a daughter last year, he has two demanding women to take care of. “He is also learning a lot,” said Khatera with a warm smile. “Initially, when he would go to the kitchen, he would pester me about how much salt to put, how long to stir a dish and so many other annoying questions. You should taste his cooking now. He makes such delicious chicken.” Nabi smiled shyly at the compliment.

Theirs was a love match. Romance blooms even in the most forbidden environments. Khatera’s father was a tailor; she did some sewing, too. She would often go to the market to purchase new material. Soon, the shopkeeper was as much an attraction as the latest bolts of textile, mostly imported from India. “I remember giving him my phone number, so that he could alert me when something new arrived,” said Khatera. Numbers exchanged, the romance bloomed further, till the couple got married four years ago. He has an earlier wife, and several children, all of whom have been left behind as they made their journey to India. “We always thought we would go back, or the family would come to meet,” said Nabi. But first there was Covid-19, then the Taliban takeover in Afghanistan. A reunion seems impossible in the foreseeable future, at least.

The last two years have been trying on their relationship, but Khatera said it helped her “see” people through. “My husband did not give up hope,” she said. “My mother-in-law would nag him constantly to leave me—I was useless and blind. He did not give up on me.” Nabi tugged at his hair. “See all these whites, the last two years have brought them on. The day Khatera was attacked was the worst day of my life,” he said, an involuntary shiver passing over him. He has battled her suicidal thoughts, her struggles with re-learning every little thing, the endless visits to the hospital—it can be intimidating for the well-trained caregiver, let alone someone who has no experience and is himself battling loss at various fronts. But the day Khatera demanded he get a “big speaker” for her to listen to music, he knew that the darkest hour was past. “Such a big speaker she wants,” he said, spreading his hands theatrically. “She always wants loud music.”

Khatera was born when her family lived as refugees in Pakistan, so she speaks and understands Hindi. Even on return to Ghazni, she spoke in Hindi and Urdu with her siblings, watched Bollywood films and listened to Hindi songs.

She is back to humming songs as she manages the few chores she has learnt at home. I ask her to sing. She is shy. But we know there is music bubbling within her. Her husband urges her on with some suggestions. She has a choice of songs from Hindi and Pashto now, and she deliberates, before settling on a Hindi number. It is about loyalty and fidelity. As she began singing, her toddler daughter left the sliced cake she was eating, and listened to her mother in rapt attention. Nabi wore an indulgent look.

There is a new spring in Khatera’s life. Recently, she had started attending classes at the National Association for the Blind (NAB) centre in the city, thanks to Srivastava’s interventions. “I was so hesitant initially,” she confessed. “I thought, ‘Others will see me spill food, or drop something, it will be so embarrassing’. Then I realised they, too, were sightless. They are also learning, like me.” Khatera has learnt to cook again. She can boil milk and make tea and instant noodles. “I spread my hands over the pot like this,” she says, gesturing with her hands over an imaginary pot. “The temperature changes tell me how far the boiling is progressing.” However, Nabi is lord of the kitchen. “Someone has to take care of Bahar, too,” they said.

Khatera is happy she can do that part. “I can massage, bathe and change her clothes, too,” she said. “I like going with my husband to the market to buy new clothes for her.”

NAB is opening up a whole new world of possibilities for her. Her impoverished living in Ghazni did not give her access to a smartphone, let alone a computer. At the centre here, she is learning to use a computer through voice commands. Srivastava is also teaching her to operate a smartphone with the help of voice commands. Once she is proficient, she will be equipped with a special set of spectacles. These spectacles will have cameras fitted on to them, and will be synced with the phone. They will be a navigation aid, conveying what is before her through voice messages. But the most interesting feature of these spectacles is that they will be able to do a face scan of the person before her. If that person’s details match with the entries on her phone, the spectacles will recognise the person, and tell her who is approaching.

Khatera always wanted to see India. “When I got my police job, I had told myself I will save for a trip to India,” she said. “I didn’t know I would be coming here like this. But I am glad I am in India. This is a wonderful place, the people are so good, and they work different miracles here.”

The path ahead is not easy. She still has terrible headaches. There are more surgeries left to repair the damage around the eye orbits and she has only just started down the road of rehabilitation. At some point, Nabi has to think of getting some employment, too. They have got refugee cards, so at least they can stay here without worry. But as Bahar grows up, there will be newer cares to deal with.

Khatera, though, has regained her zest for living, and for taking up challenges, with her love at her side. “Zindagi abhi achchi lagne lagi hai (life is looking good again),” she said.

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ROBERTO CINGOLANI was frazzled at the end of the energy and environment ministers’meet of G20 countries this July. Cingolani, who is Italy’s ecological transition minister, had chaired the two-day meet. He said that negotiations with India and China were particularly tough and that the group failed to agree on a common language for their document ahead of the Conference of the Parties (COP) Summit to be held in Glasgow.

The G20 is a group of the world’s top 20 economies and therefore is a grouping that best reflects modern-day realities. Most other important groupings do not give representation to emerging nations like India. The failure of the G20 ministers’ summit to arrive at a consensual vocabulary may have been a disappointment to Cingolani, but his comment that India is a tough negotiator is a backhanded compliment. India is putting up a tough resistance to the bullying by advanced nations, as it seeks out space and carbon budget for its development. The advanced nations, having reached saturation levels of energy consumption, are now preaching to developing nations to cut down on consumption, reduce the use of coal and raise their climate mitigation ambitions. The buzzword these days is net zero, which effectively means to reach a stage when the amount of carbon dioxide captured from the atmosphere is equal to or more than the amount of greenhouse gases emitted, thus nullifying temperature rise.

The problem with this lofty ambition is that countries which have polluted for a century and a half are now reading the riot act to nations that have barely got out of poverty. Also, it is against the common but differentiated responsibility (CBDR), an ideal agreed to at Paris five years ago, which meant that different nations have varied levels of responsibilities towards climate change mitigation. In effect, it should be the developed world which should do more—emit less, put in more money into mitigation and relief, and also help their poor cousins with technology solutions. They have not done this, at least not to the level required.

For India to hold its own in the big bad world of bullies, it requires a team that is tough, and has done its homework well. Richa Sharma, additional secretary in the ministry for environment, forest and climate change, is the leader of this 15-member team that is bracing for a tough fight in Glasgow, for every little space for development and every sliver of carbon budget allocation, while ceding as little ground as possible. Sharma led the negotiations in Italy, too, and was largely responsible for Cingolani’s dismay. India refused to agree to put a deadline on phasing out coal. It will remain the mainstay of India’s energy requirement. India also refused to change the language around the 1.5 to 2 degree temperature rise. At the Paris summit, the agreement was to keep rise in temperatures below 2 degrees, preferably below 1.5; some countries now feel they should raise the ambition. India feels there is no need to shift goalposts without meeting previous commitments first.

An alumna of Delhi University, Sharma has been an achiever throughout, winning gold medals at both her BA and MA levels. She majored in psychology, which has, perhaps, helped her deal with team members and opponents. An officer from the Chhattisgarh cadre, Sharma joined the environment ministry in 2019, and has been in the negotiations team for climate change, steering the domestic climate change agenda and strengthening international cooperation at multilaterals like BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa), SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organisation) and G20. She took over as lead negotiator earlier this year.

Officers who have worked with Sharma say that though she is not a harsh taskmaster, she knows how to get the work done. She goes into the minutest details, said a colleague, and is quick to respond with such logic and clarity of thought that it leaves the opponent baffled and team mates impressed. Sharma also has the knack of developing a working rapport with other negotiating teams, be it the Chinese, with whom India has many common issues as well as divergences, or the Americans, who are now chanting the net zero mantra. In the last two years, she has carved her space in the negotiations stage and is a known face.

Sharma will lead a heavy duty inter-ministerial team of experts, which includes J.R. Bhatt, scientist from the environment ministry, climate change finance specialist Rajasree Ray and joint secretary Neelesh Kumar Sah.

Although she has kept herself away from the limelight, Sharma interacted with THE WEEK. “At COP26, India will lead from the front as a responsible nation that is undertaking tremendous domestic climate actions as well as fostering international collaboration,”she said. “India will make constructive contributions in negotiations regarding pending agenda items (from the Paris Agreement) while respecting the principles of the UNFCCC (United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change) and Paris Agreement.”

Negotiations are a taxing job. Sometimes, one has to cede ground owing to other compulsions. This happened in Paris, when India wanted two words—historical responsibility—in the final document, which would make it official why the developed world needed to do more to address climate change. These countries were naturally opposed to it, and negotiations had reached a dead end. That is when US president Barack Obama made that famous call to Narendra Modi and India withdrew its stance. In return, India received much support for its proposed International Solar Alliance, from both the US and a grateful host, France.

In the world of diplomacy, you win some, you lose some. But fight, you must.

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For the Taliban, peace is the first option, says Zabihullah Mujahid, a spokesperson for the group. The 40-something Mujahid is in an undisclosed location, from where he spoke to THE WEEK. In a 45-minute-long interaction, Mujahid spoke with elegance and courtesy, expressing the Taliban’s desire for a progressive Afghanistan. He said the group welcomes every initiative towards a peaceful solution, as long as there was no meddling in the internal affairs of Afghanistan. As Mujahid prefers to remain faceless, he did not share his photos. Excerpts from the interview:

So many countries are involved in chalking out Afghanistan’s future.

We welcome initiatives of other nations to bring peace to Afghanistan, like the efforts at the intra-Afghan talks in Qatar. But we make this very clear—we accept efforts at facilitating peace talks, but we do not accept anyone’s interference in our internal matters.

What are your observations about the US involvement?

The US was in direct conflict with us; it had waged a war on our country. But since the talks in Doha in May, it has assured that it will withdraw its troops by August, and the forces have begun leaving. This is good.

What outcome are you expecting from the intra-Afghan talks?

Our hope from the Doha talks is that the conversation for peace continues, this is to the benefit of Afghan citizens. We hope that in future, these talks lead to a better outcome. We want peace. Notwithstanding whatever happened in Afghanistan in the past, the future hinges on peace. It is our first option, and we want initiatives towards a peaceful resolution of issues to be given a chance.

The youth of Afghanistan, however, reject the Taliban. They look upon you as an outdated outfit, which does not respect values like democracy and equal rights.

The 20 years of US imposition in our country has created this mindset among a certain section, but it is not true for the majority. The people of Afghanistan want independence from foreign intervention, they want the country to have peace and to be ruled by Afghans, under Afghan laws. Is it not significant that in two months we have established control over 200 [of the 400] districts in the country? It could not have happened without their acceptance. The Afghan people want their own government and laws. External interference is against the belief of the Prophet himself. The Afghans do not have faith in the US.

How much Afghan territory is under Taliban control as of now?

According to our information, 85 per cent of the country is under our control.

But the Ashraf Ghani government says this is not true.

The Afghans do not even consider Ghani as their representative. For his own reasons, for appeasing the external (US) influence, he will make wrong claims. But if Ghani had supporters in his own country, he would not have needed foreign troops on this soil. Why is he scared? He is the one telling lies.

Despite your claims of controlling over 85 per cent of Afghanistan, even you will agree that you do not have influence in the urban areas. In fact, despite taking over Qala-e-naw (capital of Badghis province), the city slipped out of your hands.

The reason is not our inability. We ourselves do not want to enter cities at this stage. Cities have businesses, enterprise, markets, and we do not want to destabilise this structure. If cities become battlefields, many innocents will suffer. That is why we want to stay on the periphery of cities at present. We want to give a chance for peaceful resolution of differences and issues through dialogue. This is our outlook. However, if the issues are not resolved within a certain time-frame, we will have no option but to take over the control of cities by force. With regard to Qala-e-naw, we did not want to vitiate the festive occasion of Eid with bloodshed.

How safe is Afghanistan right now? Internationally, it is regarded as a very unsafe place.

You are right, Afghanistan has not been a safe place. We have been at war for 20 years, so many countries have deployed weapons on this land. It was our helplessness that there was no peace here, that innocent Afghans had to make sacrifices while the struggle against foreign influence was on. War is not good, but there was no option. However, in the territory under our control, there is peace now. Elsewhere, there is unemployment and hunger.

Why was photojournalist Danish Siddiqui killed?

His death is not related to the Taliban, he was caught in the crossfire. He was himself responsible for his death, for entering the crossfire and risking his life. We don’t know whose gunfire killed him. The Taliban is not targeting journalists, but we are not responsible if someone gets hurt by coming into the midst of the battle.

Who will want to have any links with Afghanistan, or visit for tourism and business?

Once the external forces leave, we want to establish Islamic law here and reach out to other nations—Asia, the Islamic world, Europe, America—to establish diplomatic and trade ties, and revive our economy. When that happens, people from all over the world will want to visit
Afghanistan.

What role do you see for India in your vision for Afghanistan?

Our plans include India. We want to have diplomatic ties with India. In the past, we have not had good ties. India has supported the foreign forces system, it supplied equipment for the war, leading to our own people becoming martyrs. We hope India rethinks its position on the diplomatic way forward.

Are you saying India helped in the war?

India’s role in Afghanistan so far has not been good. It gave helicopters which are used to bombard our population. India took sides in an internal matter, aiding one side to kill another section of Afghans. This is not the type of relationship we want. We want ties of diplomacy, respect and economy.

Has any Indian leader contacted the Taliban leadership?

So far, I have no information that any Indian leader has reached out to us. If I come to know something, I will let you know.

If India reaches out, will you talk?

We are in favour of countries like India and others reaching out and wanting to have talks with us. We are certainly willing to have a conversation, if they are willing to discuss our issues and (support us). We will definitely welcome it.

Has the Taliban reached out to the Indian government?

Not yet. We have been busy with our own matters. We also have issues with India because of its policy of aiding one section of Afghans with guns and equipment. We do not want such ties. If India changes its policies, Inshallah, we will have talks.

What do you have to say about Pakistan’s role in Afghanistan?

Pakistan is our neighbouring country; it gave shelter to Afghan refugees. We have good ties and want to continue that way with Pakistan, and also with all other countries we share a border with, like Turkmenistan, Iran, Tajikistan, China and Uzbekistan.

Has Pakistan helped the Taliban?

No, no, neither Pakistan nor any other country has helped us. If anyone says otherwise, that is wrong. No country is helping us.

But Pakistan trains Taliban cadres.

It is propaganda. We do not need training. We have the experience of being at war for 40 years. We do not need someone else to train us. In fact, if anyone else wants training, we can train them, we have so much experience.

Will the Taliban be able to form a government?

Yes, we want the Taliban system to govern the entire country. The Taliban has struggled for Afghanistan’s independence, it is our right to govern the country.

In your rule, will women also find a place?

Women have rights under Islam. Within the system of Islam, whatever rights they have, they will have access to them.

Is it possible that a woman will be the leader of the country under a Taliban regime?

Once we have formed our government and laws, the leaders will decide who will be given what position. Under the framework of Islam, women have the right to employment, education and service to the country. Within that framework, they will be given their rights and roles when our laws are formed.

So many Afghan Hindus and Sikhs have left the country, what is your comment on this?

They are Afghans, they have rights in this country. We are responsible for ensuring they get their rights. Under our regime, we hope all religions will coexist. We want them to return and work towards making the country prosperous.

Twenty years ago, the Taliban destroyed the ancient Bamiyan Buddhas. Do you regret that?

That incident was under a past regime, we do not want to have any association with it. It is in the past.

But are you sorry?

No, the issue of regret doesn’t come in because there are no followers of Buddhism in Afghanistan today.

How do you say Hindus and Sikhs will be ensured protection to follow a faith different from Islam when you do not regret the destruction of the Buddha statues?

See, there are no practising Buddhists in Afghanistan today. If there was a single Afghan Buddhist, it would be their right to practise their religion, and we would respect that. There are Afghan Hindus and Sikhs, so there is a difference. We do not want their temples and gurdwaras to be destroyed.

Would you want Afghanistan to participate in sports, go explore outer space?

Yes, of course, we want Afghans to participate in the Olympics. Science and sports both are important for a new Afghanistan to have independent thinking. In the past, too, our teams have taken part in international sports meets.

We hear there is a power struggle within the Taliban.

We have unity. We have a single leader and we have good coordination between our leaders. There is no conflict.

Ten years hence, what will Kabul be like?

Inshallah, Afghanistan will be considered a good country. After the war is over, Afghanistan will emerge as the centre for trade and commerce, the link between east and west Asia. There will be growth and prosperity, the country will be full of people again.

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Razma Parwani, 20, is an angry woman. She grew up hearing that peace was just around the corner in Afghanistan. “But we are spiralling back into a civil war,” she says. Parwani is angry with the US. “They came uninvited into a messy situation, made it a bigger problem and have now dumped it on us, leaving without resolving anything,” she says. She is angry with the Taliban, which is putting up posters in provinces saying women cannot step out without a male escort. She is angry with fate. “We were a generation with dreams. We thought we would take Afghanistan towards progress and development. I wanted to be that symbol of hope for my country. My dream is shattered,” she laments.

Parwani returned to Kabul from India, where she studies economics at Delhi’s Jamia Millia Islamia, a few months ago, and the initial thrill of homecoming soon fizzled out as power supply became patchy, internet connections weak and news from the provinces scary. “We go to bed every night in the fear that the Taliban will take over, and we wake up every morning wondering whether the city has fallen. Is this any way to live?” she asks.

For a generation of Afghans who grew up in the post-Taliban era, the developments of the last several weeks—western forces withdrawing, the Taliban growing stronger and the threat of anarchy looming large—is a return to a past it had only heard about, or vaguely remembers. “We grew up with experiences Afghanistan had never had,” says Samiullah Mehdi, 37, a Kabul University lecturer and journalist. “We experienced freedom of expression, a connectivity with the outside world, given our isolation for decades. Women got a chance at education and employment. We took part in a dozen elections [since the Taliban’s fall in 2001]—four presidential, four parliamentary and several provincial ones. Afghanistan is a young country; 75 per cent of our population is under 35. I am already an old man. This war, therefore, is on the new generation. That is why they are attacking schools and colleges.”

As this generation sees the country slipping back from gains of past years, it grapples with a gamut of emotions—anger, fear, disappointment. It feels betrayed by the west and its own leaders. “We had 20 years and billions of dollars coming in as help, yet our leaders were not able to secure our homeland,” says Jebrael Amin, 28, who works with the US-aided District Peace Dialogue, helping remote communities become self-sufficient. His tours have stopped now, and stress has eroded his devil-may-care demeanour. The fun-loving boy I met in Kabul three years ago wanted to live life to the maximum, because “one never knows when a suicide bomber decides to say ‘Allah hu akbar’ and take us away with him”.

Today, Amin is an insomniac, grateful if he can get two hours sleep. Sleep mostly brings nightmares. He dreamt of being beheaded one night; another time, he was in a battle, gun in hand, but with no courage to shoot. He has lost 10kg, as he works out plans to secure his family.

Amin would rather not leave Afghanistan. He hated his stay in Pakistan, where his family fled to during the earlier tumult while he was still in the womb. “The Pakistani boys used to address me as ‘you mohajir (refugee)’,” he recalls. “I hated them. I got into so many brawls.”

The scramble to leave the country has begun. Some are slinking out illegally, the pandemic-induced closed borders making it harder to do so. Choices are further whittled as many do not want to go to Pakistan, as they blame it for their present problems, and Iran is in its own turmoil. Most prefer Turkey, with hopes to get into Europe. Some are seeking refuge in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and even India. “This is a regional issue, not our problem alone. The help from our neighbours is very important, before it becomes a bigger problem,” says Wahaj Raz, 25, with a wisdom belying his age. He had started a cement supply business, but no one is thinking of building anything right now.

The passport office and the one issuing the national identity card are seeing serpentine lines. People are braving the baking heat for hours to get their documents in place, in case they have to flee. The internal exodus, too, has begun, with villagers fleeing towards cities. Kabul, already bursting with internally displaced refugees, is bracing itself for more.

After the Taliban damaged some supply stations, most of Kabul is without electricity. Residents fear that while the capital is still secure—most of Taliban’s gains are in remote provinces—it could come under siege if the Taliban secures the highway that brings in supplies from Uzbekistan.

Although global leaders believe Taliban is the reality Afghanistan has to reckon with, and are therefore involving it in intra-Afghan peace talks, this generation rejects the Taliban. “They will not change. They have proved it with their proclamations about women,” says Rikhteen Momand, 33, from Jalalabad.

There is, however, a sliver of hope, even though Amin says he is now searching for it with a magnifier. News that Taliban has captured 80 per cent of the country, say the youth, is just propaganda. “They have taken over 100 of 400 districts,” explains Mehdi. “Taken over means they have control of the district government and police offices; it still does not mean they have control of the entire land.”

Kabul airport has installed an anti-missile system; our troops are well-trained, they say. “For some time now, our forces were providing the bulk of security. The western troops had reduced their help,” says Mehdi. That the Taliban is struggling to hold onto territory gained, like Qala-e-Naw, capital of Badghis province, gives Afghans hope.

This is a pragmatic generation. “There will be peace one day, but not tomorrow. First there will be a civil war,” says Momand. They know that the price of that elusive peace will be high—many will lose lives, livelihood and homeland. But the crowds at Slice, a popular fast food chain in Kabul, give a peek into the minds of these youngsters. They are making the most of whatever good time they can grab, Covid restrictions notwithstanding, before they brace for blood and battle. That is the resilient Afghan spirit.

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This story first appeared in The Week

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This story first appeared in The Week

Parul Rathee, a 25-year-old Indian student at Tel Aviv University, will never forget May 11. She and her friends had a plan for the evening—dance classes—and she casually asked them whether it would be safe, given the rockets Hamas was sending. They laughed and said: “This is Tel Aviv, we are far from the border.”

However, later that evening, one of her friends got an alert on a smartphone app that there could be rockets coming their way within minutes. It all happened so fast, she said. Suddenly, the night sky was lit up with rockets. Her friends dragged her to the nearest house and the owners hustled the whole group of strangers into their underground bomb shelter, no questions asked.

“We stayed like that for the next two hours, and we could hear booms outside,” said Rathee, who was terribly shaken by the experience. Then, the noises dimmed, and they stepped out. The rockets had been deflected and there was no damage done. Her friend—an Arab Israeli—coolly headed to her car and dropped the others home.

In the days hence, Rathee’s fear of living under siege has fast disappeared. She may not follow the routine as matter-of-factly as Israelis, but she is getting there. “Living here is not as scary as it seems from the outside,” she said. Almost 60 per cent of Israeli homes have bomb shelters, there are also several in public areas. These are either underground or, if above ground, made of reinforced metal. The app which alerted Rathee’s friend is courtesy of the Israeli Home Front Command. It is GPS-enabled and provides real-time alerts. It may not always give enough reaction time, but sometimes even a two-minute warning is enough to evade death.

Overhead is the invisible protection of Israel’s famed Iron Dome, which deflects missiles from targets. However, even the Iron Dome is not impenetrable, as is evident from the recent deaths. Israelis say that Hamas ammunition has got sophisticated, too. The Israelis make it a point to announce that their dead include Muslims, foreigners (recently, the Indian caregiver Soumya Santhosh) and even children. In retaliation, they are sending their own fire, bringing down entire buildings in business and residential districts of Palestinian towns, especially in Gaza.

The Palestinians have neither the protection of an anti-missile umbrella, nor enough reinforced spaces to take shelter in. In Palestine, therefore, people are being killed in much higher numbers, the civilian casualties increasing by the day. After a building which housed several international media houses was pulverised by Israeli fire, Associated Press CEO Gary Pruitt said the “world will know less about what is happening in Gaza because of what happened today”. No one was killed in the blast, as Israel had given an hour’s notice before bombing.

Israel says that its bombings are precise, targeting only Hamas infrastructure or cadre. But, it accepts that there will be civilian casualties. “I am not belittling civilian deaths, but we have hit dozens of senior and mid ranking people in Hamas. This is what the Gazan media announces,” said senior Israeli diplomat, Paul Hirschon. “We are in no mood to apply Band-Aid over our wounds right now; we will continue to hit them.”

The anger between Israel and Hamas in Palestine is so red hot that neither side is even thinking of a cessation to the hostilities anytime soon. The Palestinians say there is no point having talks with a country that has not heeded to any past agreement; Israel says that talks can happen only after they have ensured Hamas does not fire at them again. The world is looking at this conflict with unease, even as both sides openly ask nations to support their cause.

Unpleasant view: Damage done by Hamas rockets in Israel | AP

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu thanked the 25 countries which have supported them; India was not one of those. Iran has called on Muslim countries to defend Palestine; Indonesia and Malaysia have condemned Israeli attacks. Many others, however, are wary of immediate responses. Four Islamic countries—the UAE, Morocco, Sudan and Bahrain—normalised ties with Israel last year. The development was seen as a move towards underscoring economic development and peace over communal hostilities. There was hope that more Arab countries would join the Abraham Accord, brokered by the Donald Trump administration with the UAE last year. Jordan and Egypt already have ties with Israel.

India, which made a bold move under Prime Minister Narendra Modi a few years ago to de-hyphenate its ties with Israel and Palestine, has made guarded utterances. T.S. Tirumurti, India’s permanent representative to the United Nations, called for immediate de-escalation and appealed to the two sides to “refrain from changing the status quo”. He condemned “all acts of violence, specially rocket attacks from Gaza” and noted and mourned the death of Santhosh to one such hit at Ashkelon.

While Israel and Palestine have had an uneasy relationship at the best of times, there was a recent slowdown in open hostilities. The last long-drawn instance was in 2014, which lasted around 50 days. “Let us hope it does not drag on for so long again,” said Reena Pushkarna, an Indian-origin Israeli restaurateur. Life was just returning to normal after Israel’s intensive vaccination drive. “The schools have shut again, the restaurants, too,” she said.

What worries her more is that this time the communal fabric of Israel is under stress. “We have a good number of Arab Israelis; many are part of the intelligentsia, they are doctors and professors,” she said. “But, the atmosphere is changing, spurred largely by social media and TikTok videos. The communal riots are scarier than the rockets. The other day, Arab rioters torched the famous Uri Buri fish restaurant in Acre, which was so popular with the Arabs. Once the rockets stop, will our leaders be able to bring back communal harmony?” That, however, seems like a problem for another day. For now, the rockets continue to bring death and destruction.

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This story first appeared in The Week

Interview/ Rony Yedidia Clein, deputy chief of mission, Israel embassy in India

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When the tsunami hit India in 2004, the world offered to send relief material. India, however, politely refused the aid, saying it had the wherewithal to take care of its own. In the 15 years hence, India whittled down existing aid packages to almost a bare minimum. Instead, it positioned itself in the league of donors, increasing its development cooperation budget every year, rebuilding Afghanistan, taking care of the neighbourhood and reaching out to Africa.

India thought it was atmanirbhar, and had the basics of roti, kapda, makaan (food, clothing and shelter) almost sorted out; it had not imagined that it would have to go about asking for air to breathe. So, when a flight landed from the UK on April 27 with a donation of oxygen concentrators and ventilators, it gratefully accepted the charity. “Beg, borrow or steal [oxygen], it is a national emergency,” the Delhi High Court recently told the Centre, as blood-numbing tales of patients dying for want of oxygen began pouring in from everywhere. Senior ministers and bureaucrats then began making desperate calls overseas. Subsequently, apart from the UK, France, Germany, Australia and Ireland have announced their aid packages; Russia and Kuwait are likely to do so, too. Even Bhutan, forever the recipient, has assured 40 metric tonnes of liquid oxygen daily. The US has made grand announcements, but not quantified the assistance so far. US Inc, from Amazon to Microsoft, has enumerated the assistance it will extend.

Meanwhile, the Indian Air Force rushed to ferry emergency oxygen purchases from Singapore, Bangkok and Dubai, and to courier the gas from one part of the country to another. The Centre ordered a ban on industry use of oxygen, with exceptions like medical, pharmaceutical and defence.

For a nation, which till recently, was exporting oxygen, (in fact, its exports doubled over the last year), this clamber for oxygen, as well as essential medicines, is not only ironic, but also telling of the poor planning, internal squabbling and an institutional smugness over having supposedly suppressed the pandemic.

The second wave rose sharper than the first, yet, there was reaction time, if only the authorities had heeded. “The political class was busy with elections. The bureaucracy should have been alert; it is their job to prepare, plan and oversee crisis management,” said former home secretary G.K. Pillai. “They had time, at least a few months to fill the gaps, create infrastructure… but they took their eyes off the ball.”

The cost of this mismanagement is great in human life, but there is an economic loss, too. “Emergency purchases are at the price quoted. Are we importing at a price higher than we exported?” wondered Malancha Chakrabarty of Observer Research Foundation. “Would it not have been prudent to stock up, given that the pandemic has not receded from the world?”

A Union health ministry comparison of hospital admissions over the last year has shown that this time, there is a 13 per cent increase in oxygen beds. The analysis does not explain why this is so, neither does it factor in the increased oxygen demand for home patients. The ventilator demand, on the other hand, dropped by 10 per cent. Percentages, however, do not indicate the denominator, which is massive this time, and in sheer numbers, oxygen, ventilators and medicines supplies are being strained.

There are multiple reasons for the increased demand. The UK variant that is dominating the north spreads faster, and thereby, entire localities are falling ill, leading to a strain on local infrastructure, said epidemiologist Archisman Mohapatra, executive director, Generating Research Insights for Development (GRID) Council.

It has not helped that the infrastructure set up last time, instead of being augmented, had actually been dismantled. Bengaluru happily wrapped up the massive field hospital it had set up last year; today, its patients are scouring for beds in Mysuru, Hubli and nearby towns. In Delhi, while the Centre and state may blame each other for the situation, the truth is that neither stopped the other from pulling down jumbo facilities that the Defence and Research Development Organisation and Indo-Tibetan Border Police had put up; they had to be revived all over again. The Sardar Patel Covid Care Centre and Hospital in Chhatarpur admitted its first patient on April 26, much after the daily death toll had crossed the 300 mark. The ITBP facility had 123 admissions on the day of reopening.

But was it just shortage, or more of mismanagement, which caused patients to gasp to their deaths? In Delhi, Chief Minister Arvind Kejriwal complained of supplies being stopped at the borders, ultimately forcing the Centre to invoke the Disaster Management Act and allow free movement of the life-giving gas. However, within cities, there was initially no coordinated supply mechanism. “Instead of giving a decent reaction time of 12 hours, hospitals sometimes suddenly announce that they will run out of supply within a matter of hours,” said Sachindra Pratap Singh of Mumbai’s oxygen supply task force. Such panic cries from ministers and hospitals have resulted in a thriving black market for not just oxygen cylinders, but also vital medicines like remdesivir. According to industry sources, the existing oxygen production capacity in India, including in steel plants, is around 8,000MT a day. The Covid-19 surge has put the daily demand at around 6,500MT. It is the distribution, rather than production, which is the bigger problem, said Siddharth Jain, director of INOX Air. Most production is in east India, with some in Karnataka and west India, said Hanuman Mal Bengani, former CEO, Linde India. The demand, on the other hand, is in north India—Delhi, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh—as well as Maharashtra and Gujarat. At the beginning of the second surge, authorities were caught napping when the oxygen demand escalated. The Railways launched its Oxygen Express service on April 21, way after the wave had already caused enough devastation.

The blame game continues. According to the home ministry, Delhi government’s management was poor. Union home secretary Ajay Bhalla wrote to the Delhi chief secretary pointing out that the city did not arrange oxygen tankers in time, even though the Centre had made allotments. He said Delhi was allocated 480MT on April 21, after assessing the requirement, but it received less than the allocation because of logistical reasons not addressed by the state. Telangana has learnt from the experiences of Delhi and secured oxygen supplies from Odisha.

In Nashik, it was not a shortage of supply but a leak in the oxygen tank that caused the death of 24 patients on life support. The Centre’s core team on Covid management, including NITI Aayog member V.K. Paul and AIIMS chief R.K. Guleria, is now giving tips on how to prevent oxygen wastage, and for prudent use of this precious resource.

Meanwhile, even as India looked outside for air, the Sterlite plant at Thoothukudi, Tamil Nadu, a facility capable of producing 1,050MT oxygen daily, remained shut. Its owners appealed for the gates to be unlocked, but the state government did not agree for a precious long time. In court, advocate general Vijay Narayan said the plant could only produce 35MT of the required liquid oxygen. The plant finally has been given conditional permission to run for four months to produce oxygen.

The situation with the drug and vaccine shortage is even more embarrassing, given the positioning India did last year as the ‘pharmacy and vaccinator of the world’. Today, it is receiving drugs in aid. The Vaccine Maitri outreach has come to an embarrassing halt, with neither exports materialising, nor the supplies being adequate for the forthcoming programme of universal adult vaccination from May. The long lines are back—for oxygen cylinders, medicines and beds. “We are back to the India of the 1970s,” said Chakrabarty. “India lost much of its high ground with the migrant crisis last year. The oxygen crisis this year has dented our international image badly. We thought we had a seat at the high table and were part of the global decision-making process, here we have been exposed at not being able to handle our own mess.”

The coming days are likely to be worse, with the Empowered Group of Officers (EG-1) under Paul warning the Centre to prepare for a five to six lakh daily rise of cases by May before the curve dips. With the aid coming in, supplies may be secured for the present. But if there is any lesson that the second wave has taught, it is that the endgame is far away. “Typically, pandemics come in several surges, spread over a couple of years, before settling down as endemics,” said Mohapatra. A third wave is a distinct possibility, even a fourth. Will we be caught napping again?

With Namrata Biji Ahuja, Lakshmi Subramanian, Pooja Biraia Jaiswal, Abhinav Singh and Rahul Devulapalli

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Mea culpa, rues Anurag Agarwal. Head of the CSIR-Institute for Genomics and Integrative Biology (CSIR-IGIB) in New Delhi, Agarwal coined the term ‘double mutant’, which has become the buzzword in India now. But he says he never intended it to be part of the common parlance.

“We were writing a scientific note, where we were describing a new Variant of Concern (VoC) that had been found,” says Agarwal. This variant of the SARS-CoV-2 virus, which they first identified in Maharashtra, had several mutations, as is the normal case with newer generations of viruses. However, among those mutations, two were of particular interest, since they showed “immune escape” in vitro. This means that when geneticists cultured virus genomes in the lab and subjected them to extreme antibody pressure, which should effectively neutralise the virus, some mutations still survived.

Using a method of nomenclature called Pango (there are multiple nomenclature methods, which cause much confusion even among the scientific community, forget laypersons), they identified this variant by a most uninteresting sounding name called B.1.617, flagging two of the various mutations. These mutations are E484Q and L452R, which are simply codes for the point on the genome at which a particular amino acid (indicated by the letter) is replaced by another. “While writing the paper, we had to repeatedly talk about the variant, and I referred to it at some point as the double mutant,” explains Agarwal.

This catchy word was first heard in public on March 24, when Union health secretary Rajesh Bhushan used it in his briefing. And before they knew it, the term was bandied around by just about everyone. It also caused a measure of concern, with people beginning to mistakenly believe that the double mutation made the virus a worse enemy than the ancestral Wuhan strand.

A few weeks later, two developments happened. Some scientists noted that there was another mutation, P681R, on the B.1.617 variant that was “interesting” because this mutation “probably helps the virus enter the host cell more easily,” in the words of virologist Saumitra Das, who heads the National Institute of Biomedical Genomics (NIBMG), Kalyani, West Bengal. So, people began talking about the double mutant actually being a “triple mutant” and thereby even more fearsome. “It is the same variant—B.1.617,” says Agarwal. “We were studying for immune escape, so we flagged the two mutations we connected to that trait. We had also noticed P681R, but in our story, it was only a sidekick; the protagonists were the first two. For someone else, who was looking for another characteristic, P681R became the star of the narrative.”

But even before this confusion could be clarified, the NIBMG flagged yet another variant, B.1.618, which is prevailing in West Bengal. As it identified three mutations here, this, too, got referred to as the triple mutant, again, attributing to it triple the power for destruction. And so, there are now two triple mutants doing the rounds of the country, the Maharashtra double which is a triple, and the Bengal triple! 618, as it is best to call this variant, is still under study. It is not even classified as a VoC, says Das. It has not shown any potential to spread more virulently or attack more lethally.

The prevailing confusion is only natural, given the complicated, and not standardised, system for naming viruses and their variants. “The general public is usually not interested in virus names, and the existing system of numbers and letters work well for the scientific community, since we all know the codes, and can immediately identify the mutations by their names,” says Agarwal in defence. Right from the ancestral genome (the Adam or Eve genome), the phylogenetic tree of a virus can be a mindboggling alphabet and numerical soup, as subsequent generations are clumped into clades and lineages and variants. Unsurprisingly, terms like double mutant or UK strain enter our vocabulary, all of which are so misleading.

The B.1.1.7 lineage, referred to as the UK variant, got its name because it was first identified in the UK; it does not mean it originated in the UK. Despite the stigma such names give to a place, they do become common. We have seen it with the Spanish Flu, Ebola, Nipha and Zika viruses and a host of diseases. Despite efforts of the scientific community to not associate the pandemic with China, the Wuhan connection remains indelible. The World Health Organization is working out a standardised nomenclature system, but while that may ease confusion among scientists, for the laypersons, it will still mostly be gobbledygook.

618 was first also referred to as the Indian variant, even though Bhushan insisted there is no such term. While his attempt was to ensure India does not get stigmatised, the fact is that given India’s expanse, there cannot be one single Indian variant. Already, 617 is being called the Maharashtra variant, while 618 as the Bengal variant. But if yet another variant is reported from these states, what will that be called, asks Agarwal. “Right now, given the large number of cases, India must be having the largest pool of variants, too,” notes Rakesh Mishra, head of the Hyderabad-based Centre for Cellular and Molecular Biology, adding that mutation is the nature of viruses. Only if a mutation is associated with a more severe infection or antibody resistance does it become a matter of concern.

In fact, over the past year, the virus map of the country has changed dynamically. In the initial weeks, the Wuhan strand came to India, but quickly enough, a variant called D614G established itself all over India, says Mishra. It remained dominant till winter, when the UK variant came over by flights. This variant is known for higher infectivity or spread, but not necessarily higher morbidity in patients.

By December, the variant map of India began changing remarkably. The UK variant, despite being a VoC, was not contained properly, especially in north India. In Punjab, it now accounts for 90 per cent of the cases; in Delhi, for half the cases sampled, followed by the 617 variant. On the other hand, despite the international flights to Mumbai and Hyderabad, identification and quarantine of international passengers carrying this infection has meant that the UK variant is less established in the peninsula. While in Maharashtra, 617 is the most prevalent variant, elsewhere in the south, N440K is more commonly seen. “It is of no real consequence as it is not leading to any greater infectivity,” says Mishra. The Brazil and South African variants are also seen in India, but in very low titre.

In West Bengal, 618 and 617 are vying for supremacy, and scientists feel that the more mobile 617 might become dominant and even edge out 618. The Uttar Pradesh surge is still a study in progress. While it is possible that due to proximity, Uttar Pradesh might have a similar variant pattern as Delhi, Sujeet Singh, head of National Centre for Disease Control, which is analysing samples from north India, says the picture will get clear once their analysis is done. Bengaluru’s surge, say geneticists, is not dominated by any particular variant. Overall, in the country, the UK variant is the dominant one, largely because of the north Indian surge.

What does an understanding of these variants mean for the people? Nothing, say scientists. The spread of the virus remains the same, irrespective of the variant. So far, so is the treatment. Thus, the existing protocol for prevention works. “In Punjab, for instance, the UK variant is dominant, but any variant would have done the same job, when people were gathering in droves for protests and parties,” points out Mishra.

These genomic studies are more for the understanding of researchers in epidemiological studies. A dynamic variant map will show how the infection is spreading, and therefore can be effectively used in epidemiological management, by physically cutting off the region from where it is spreading. The identification of 617 in the UK and Canada has shown the path of its travel.

Genomic studies also help in creating target medicines and vaccines. So far, there is no proven medicine for treating Covid-19. But studies show that existing treatment protocol and vaccines work as effectively against all the existing variants. This is because mutations are only at a particular point, but the vaccine targets several points on the virus. Thus, even if one particular site shows an “immune escape” under laboratory conditions, the vaccine would still be able to target the virus as a whole. For the present, at least. Again, none of the mutations have changed the way the virus has spread, so mask, social distance and hand hygiene work against all. This is for the present. As for the future of infection, que sera sera (what will be, will be).

Tracking variants

Variant of Interest show changes in binding to receptor. They could have potential for reduced neutralisation by antibodies generated by a previous bout of infection or vaccination, potential diagnostic impact or predicted increase in disease transmissibility or severity. B.1.617 is mostly considered a VoI, B.1.618 may not even qualify as a VoI.

Variant of Concern is a variant for which there is evidence of increased transmissibility and severity of disease, significant reduction in neutralisation by antibodies from previous infection or vaccination, reduced effectiveness of treatment and diagnostic detective failures. The UK variant is a VoC.

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