Asia

My search for truth in Burma began in a sleepy embassy in Vientiane, Laos, where I sat sweating on a patent leather sofa in a crumpled silk shirt and tie, pulling phony business cards from my wallet and lying through my teeth. It was two months after the monk-led anti-government uprisings of last September, and I had already been rejected a tourist visa twice in Hong Kong and Bangkok. I decided to hit the diplomatic backwaters with a different tack.

SRINAGAR, India — Bullet pocks are still visible along Lal Chowk, the commercial heart of Kashmir's main city, reminders of the gunbattles, bombings and suicide attacks that used to be an almost daily occurrence.

Pakistan and India both claim Kashmir, which is divided and has been the cause of two of three wars between the countries since partition in 1947.

Today, though, there is only the din of traffic, disturbed by a crowd of bus drivers protesting the back wages they claim the state owes them.

Srinagar, Indian Administered Kashmir --- Khurram Parvez recalls how the walls of his office shook from daily bombs and gun battles during the height of fighting here when separatists would rush across the Pakistani border to strike at Indian security forces.

Jacob Baynham, for the Pulitzer Center
Vientiane, Laos

My search for truth in Burma began in a sleepy embassy in Vientiane, Laos, where I sat sweating on a patent leather sofa in a crumpled silk shirt and tie, pulling phony business cards from my wallet and lying through my teeth. It was two months after the monk-led anti-government uprisings of last September, and I had already been rejected a tourist visa twice in Hong Kong and Bangkok. I decided to hit the diplomatic backwaters with a different tack.

NASHIK, India -- On a recent afternoon, Seetabai Atthre heard a faint cry from the edge of a vineyard her family has cultivated for more than 40 years on the arid plains of northern Maharashtra state. Searching through the furrows, she found her husband, Vishal, smoldering on the ground next to an empty can of kerosene. He died in a local hospital three days later from severe burns.

The Atthre farm had not turned a profit in more than two years, and 65-year-old Vishal could no longer secure loans from local banks to pay off the interest on the $5,600 he already owed.

Niyamgiri, India — As he recalled a recent trip to the nation's capital, Drika Kadraka came to a sudden halt on a footpath that winds sharply to his village. He then raised his arms in a gesture of thanks to the vast night sky.

"Without our moon, our stars, we Dongria started to feel lost, missing our home," the indigenous leader said, alluding to the dense smog that often blankets New Delhi. "We are lucky here. I know we must never leave these beautiful hills."

It's only mid-morning, and sitting in his simple studio in the shadow of some of Rangoon's wealthiest mansions, Thein Soe is already exhausted.

"In your country, you work two days and you have food for a week," says Maung Lwin, a welder taking a break for tea after lunch. "Here, you work for one day and you eat for one day." Lwin supports his family on an average daily wage of $2.30, the same salary the government pays a specialized doctor. Money is so tight that even sitting down for a 15 cent cup of tea takes careful consideration.

"You are human, I am also human," he tells me. "But my luck is not the same as your luck."

Deep in the virgin jungle of southern Chhattisgarh, Naxalite guerillas live, train and recruit beyond the reach of government forces.

During its 46-year rule, Burma's military government has turned one of the wealthiest countries of Southeast Asia into one of the poorest and most isolated nations in the world.

The damages are evident everywhere; pre-WWII commuter buses growl through the cities and grinding poverty forces beggars and prostitutes to ply the streets beneath Orwellian billboards.