Mera Neta Bore Hai and other stories

If I were to believe the hysterical news channels one is subjected to these days, there is a revolution afoot. Apparently the not so successful blackmail tactic from your childhood(I will not eat till you change my name to April Rose?) is getting a second life. So what if it didn’t work with the parents, it works with the government. And therefore, I invite you to join me tomorrow in a fast unto being-fed-with-a-tube to protest against the harsh summers and the tanning that it brings. We must not let all that Fair and Lovely go waste.

Ok, ok, enough with the bad jokes. This is a serious matter. It’s a fight against corruption, the perennial bane of Indian society and business across the world. The Indian Jasmine revolution(the media have really outdone themselves - no, not really). The middle class revolution (as against the low class ones we see ever so often) Oh! How they kid themselves. The Indian middle class is not comprised of 50 odd people in every small city and a slightly higher number in the metros. The people who form these noisy groups holding up banners in support of Anna’s jasmine fast are mostly, social butterflies(yes Anupam Kher, I am talking about YOU), social activists (who don’t have much work anyway) and students – again no work and too young and starry eyed to know better (My 73rd b’day was last weekend, thanks!)

I don’t enjoy peeing over everyone’s optimism (or maybe I do, but that’s another story all together) But I don’t get it. So after this, a bill will be passed and we will get a super-duperman who will wipe away corruption from all our systems like--- Did I get that script right? I am sorry I don’t buy it. That only happens in Mithunda movies. (Ok maybe in Rajni movies too.) But real life doesn’t have as many bad dialogues, pretty heroines and nice endings. So here is how the thing will end in real life. Remember all the corrupt people, the ones he is against? They are corrupt for a reason. They have power. So rest assured, these villains will find a way of letting the air out of super-duperman. And that’s the nice part of the story. The pother part is the scenario where super-duperman trounces all. And that’s only because he is a bigger crook than the rest of them.

How naïve are we? What makes us think that an all powerful Lokpal will solve all our problems? The same person as prosecutor and also the judge? That sounds dangerous to me. We have enough number of people who are answerable to no one at all. And look where that has gotten us.

On the night we won the World Cup (Yes congratulations everybody, all your efforts, the not bathing, the sitting in the same clothes, paid off) I was on my way home when we had to stop for a while to let a bunch of hooligans pass. You know the kind, too drunk to drive, holding up their finger (you know which one) at the cop on duty, hooting for no reason etc. That’s when it hit me. We deserve all this. The politicians with criminal records, the corruption, all of it. Yes, Indian democracy is best viewed from a traffic signal in the hindi heartland. As a nation of bribe givers and income tax evaders (and these are some of the nicer things we do) we deserve every bit of corrupt neta that we get. Every MLA, every MP is elected not only by us but also from us. And so naturally, they represent us in every sense of the word.

(On a side note, this happened again. With the Great Indian Jasmine Fast and Random Sloganeering people got the right to randomly stop traffic, accost passersby, walk through busy junctions and even eve tease. When your cause is noble, civic sense doesn’t matter.)

Anyway, back to the problem. We see the problem only at the highest levels. We want to solve it also only at the highest levels. Or at least beginning at the highest levels. The problem of corruption is an endemic one. We like to believe just the powerful few who are corrupt. But the fact is that most of us, given the power that they have, would probably do equally unspeakable stuff. So appointing a super-duperman is about as good as wishing our problems away. Unfortunately, holding a candle light march doesn’t hold a candle to actual work.

We have beaten social evils in the past. There was Sati, the way we treated our widows, the caste system in Kerala to cite a few. There were failures too, I won’t deny that. I don’t know that the status of corruption was under the British, but I am guessing that the majority of us were too poor so it wasn’t what it is to. We beat some customs which had been the part of the fabric of our society for quite a few decades at the very least. Most of the time what helped us is the people who attacked the root of the problems and not the just rules that the British had against these. Men, good strong men ( not to mention sane) role models like Raja Ram Mohan Roy and an Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, talked about the problems and showed people why they were wrong. Talked till someone listened and some of them realized what horrible ways they were treating others and some other realized what beastly treatment was being metted out to them. The Official acts came after the real change and that is why it worked.

So where did we lose the plot? Is it because our social reformers have been replaced by Social activists? Sometimes I wonder how social activists are any better than armchair critics like me. We like our 15 minutes of fame. We like to challenge the big guys. What we don’t realize is that behind him, in his shadows is another one just like him, or worse, waiting to take his place. But hey, lets be David for a day. Besides do you know how much time and effort the actual reform takes?Phhffft!

Surviving Ayodhya

Well so the nation waits with baited breath for the Ayodhya verdict, I sit here and stock up on Maggie, reading material , Seinfeld episodes, soap and all that jazz. But somewhere I get this feeling that all this preparation will come to naught. It will not be 18 years back. The verdict will come. I have no doubt that there will be disturbances. Maybe even a bandh. But a bloodbath it will not be. We were a very very different nation back then. On the verge of bankruptcy. High rates of unemployment. And it is at moments like this we get to see how economics dictates even social science. Back then, the Babri Masjid demolition, mandal commission, the Mumbai blasts evoked sentiments that finally left cities and towns burning.

Today we will be shocked, outraged even. Maybe we will sign petitions or in the ultimate show of solidarity - hold a candle light vigil. But leave our cushy jobs to tie a black flag on our arms and go burning houses. Err no thank you. You see I have a family to feed and EMIs to pay too. In a roundabout way, economic progress sure has brought about social progress. Or so is my belief.

So if we have moved on, is this verdict important? Does it really matter what structure stands there? Hinduism and Islam have had a chance. Maybe its time for a church there. Another 100 years down the line, we’ll kick that down and build a gurudwara. A rotation system.

When I was much younger, I used to think the disputed land should be put to some good use. Build an Orphanage there. Build a shelter for the poor. But today I realize, that would be evasion. It is like saying, there are more important things in the world than answering the question What structure should stand there. Which is probably true. But this solution assumes that the original problem is not important. And a three hundred year old dispute can scarcely be a trivial one.

There was a temple (which is what it most probably looks like after the ASI report in 2003. ) It is no longer there. There was a mosque which replaced it. It is also no longer there. So by virtue of being there for around three hundred years, does the land now belong to the mosque? Or does the original owner retain it? How would this be interpreted under common law. I need to know that logical answer. Unclouded by religion and sentiments. You, me and everyone who has been through this, needs to know this answer.

Not that that would end anything. There will be an appeal. And even when the final verdict comes out, there will be dissatisfaction. Who knows maybe 300 years later, we will have another demolition and a whole new generation of people stocking up on Maggie. ( Oh yeah baby. Maggie will outlive even the roaches)

Once upon a rainy time

It is quite wonderful to sit in a taxi and look at the red brake lights of the cars blinking through the water droplets on the windshield. The peace and quiet that envelopes you is interrupted only by the wakeful snores of the taxi driver. And then suddenly over the bridge, I see the storm brewing at the horizon and that along with the wind in your hair brings to your heart a vague feeling of exhilaration. And then it starts. It rains cats and dogs and other species of domesticated animals. The sound of the raindrops thrashing against the road and the mist against my skin makes me happy that I chose to get out of office early today. Now I can attend calls from pesky colleagues and answer them with a, “ Hello? Hellllooo? I am out in the rain, will call when it stops.” You can actually expect them to understand. And so, I have the rest of the evening to myself and whomever I chose to spend it with. That’s when I make a call. “ Meet me downstairs.”
And sure enough when I get home, there she is waiting for me, a jacket in hand and an excited expression on face. We put on our jackets, hold on to our umbrellas, wrap our precious cell phones in a plastic bag. Thus fortified, we trudge through the rain as fast as we can. Somewhere in this rain, I hear a racket. I turn back to see a fire truck rushing to some place and suddenly I just can’t stop laughing. She looks at me with a puzzled expression, then catches sight of what I have seen and doubles up in laughter. And right there, the two of us, laughing like idiots in the middle of the road, we completely understand each other.
With all the wrestling with our umbrellas, we reach the beach quicker than I anticipated. There is thunder and lightning in the air. As we make our way through the wet sand, I find the most perfect looking seashell. We go down to the sea and stand for a while looking at our own shadows. The wind makes the umbrellas useless; water is running down our backs now. Slowly we see the tide is coming back up. So we scamper back up the rocks and on to the beach and run around for a bit. Then when we are tired and completely soaked, we sit down for a while and hunt for seashells. It is here I wonder, if I will feel so blissfully happy ever again.
Slowly the rains subside. Suddenly I have a feeling that we are intruding on the couple sitting a few feet away from us. Or that they are intruding on our time. We get up, shake off the sand and start for home. And somewhere in the middle of the long walk back home and the race up the stairs, it struck me that life is truly a beautiful thing, and it will give me chances to be this happy again and again till eternity. And when I feel the warm floor beneath my feet, I realize that all that’s left of this is experience is a seashell and the memory of her smile.