Cavalcades and the Commoner

Published in Pioneer, Chandigarh on 29/9/12. Link: http://www.dailypioneer.com/state-editions/chandigarh/98180-cavalcades-and-the-commoner.html

Published in Millennium Post, Delhi on 23.11.12. Link: 

 http://www.millenniumpost.in/NewsContent.aspx?NID=14121

By Amit Shekhar

            They are VVIPs. And I am what I am, the smallest unit of we, the people who have made them what they are—elected representatives of we, the people. This is about them and me, for anything about them and us ultimately boils down to them and me. This is about watching them go. They go whizzing past me, one after another, leaving me reeling from the storm they kick up. I want to count how many of them there are, going with a shrieking urgency that blurs the surroundings for them and also makes them a blur for the people watching them go.

            They go as if the nation is on fire and if they don't proceed in a scorching rush to wherever they are going, everything would be reduced to a fistful of ashes. They go as if they are doing a sacred service to all the people making way for them to go. They go as if they cannot waste a moment as committed servants of the nation in dashing to where the shrill and commanding call of duty is summoning them. And they go as if it is the duty of the nation and its people to come respectfully to a standstill and provide them smooth passage.

            The whirlwind they whip up hastens me to these lines of Ghalib: "Raundi hui hai, kaukabaye-shahriyar ki / Itraye kyon na khak, sar-e-rahguzar ki." (Why should not the dust preen? The emperor's carriages, no less, have trampled it.)

            Yes, I once counted 28 vehicles in Bihar CM Nitish Kumar's cavalcade thundering past me on a Patna road. It all began and ended like a bolt from the blue on a sultry summer evening when I was going on my rickety cycle, quite forgetful that my nation could crystallise anytime out of nowhere before me, fix me with its eyes and say, "Serve." And I would have no choice but to heed the command in its overpowering gaze and firm voice.

            The nation shocked me that day by suddenly taking form before me as immensely rude policemen who verbally and physically lunged at everybody on the road to unceremoniously drive them off it. The vigour and alarm in their language, both of the body and otherwise, made it clear to me and others around me that one of the representatives we had chosen to serve us was on his way to doing just that. The citizens and their vehicles cringed in submission along the road, careful not to hinder in any way the progress of the nation. Transfixed by the road, my fluttering heart started murmuring Tagore's lines: "When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride ..."

            The road went completely blank and quiet before they came—the beaming Scorpios, Boleros, Pajeros and other huge signs of prosperity and progress, flashing beacons and blaring sirens. Dust rose to the sky like hymns in praise of this progress. The huge signs came and came. And came. And I waited and waited. And waited. I figured I would feel worthier by believing in Milton when he says, "They also serve who only stand and wait." While standing and waiting I counted too. After the 28th huge sign of equality, fraternity and liberty flew past me, quiet and stillness swept the road again. Then the policemen sauntered by, awash with relief at the satisfactory end of a scary test of their commitment to duty. They dismissively signalled us to move on. And I moved on, with an empty feeling in the stomach, heart and mind. It is no mean feat to serve the nation.

            Neeraj writes, “Karwan guzar gaya, gubar dekhte rahe …” (The caravan went by and left me watching the dust it raised.) Poetry finds echoes in multiple spheres, and I discovered in a numbing flash that Neeraj’s caravan traverses not just the deserts of romance and relationships which he associates this line with but dreary political landscapes too.

            Many things in day-to-day life show me my place in my nation. The mammoth cavalcades of the elected leaders of the nation are one such thing. When they go screaming by, scattering everything in their path, there is deep symbolism in the world standing perfectly still and making ample room for them. It is a sign of time having stood still for ages. It is about chariot after radiant chariot gliding over royal paths, kicking up dust storms, the wheels of the carriages, the hooves of the horses, the stout, shining faces of the emperor and his men all just a blur for the nameless, faceless people along the road who blend pliantly with their surroundings and let stately splendour stand out.

            Of course, both kings and democratic leaders have good reasons to travel in huge cavalcades creating typhonic circumstances. I know two of those good reasons: security concerns and exigencies of state. Is it just that? Or is it also about vain show of power and inflated importance? About a chasm between leaders and the people they lead? About leaders exclusively and arrogantly enjoying pomp and grandeur that has nothing to do with their mandate to humbly serve the people who have made them leaders?

            Whatever it is, it is no big deal, for it is nothing new. Harivanshrai Bachchan says, “Jag badalega, kintu na jeevan …" (The world changes, not life.) How poets get it right. The wheels of the world seem to have journeyed huge distances on the roads of history, but the story of life remains the same, with just nominal alterations of name and form.

            In the days of kings in this land, crowds herded along the path of royal processions cheered them because the king and his men made it mandatory. I wonder why people today choose to watch in complete silence when the cavalcades of their representatives sworn to serve them dash past them. Are they, by any chance, exercising their right to freedom of speech (or silence), just one of the many gladdening gifts of our democracy?

Is the Mahatma for Today?

Published in Pioneer, Chandigarh on 6/10/12. Link: http://www.dailypioneer.com/state-editions/chandigarh/99770-could-the-mahatma-survive-these-times.html

By Amit Shekhar

            It has happened with many great men. Mahatma Gandhi is one of them. There is a story about a messiah who became the founder of a religion with followers all over the world. About 2,500 years after he died, he felt concerned about the pathetic state of the world. He had lived and not just preached his message of tolerance, love, fraternity and forgiveness till his death and was pained to see the world and even the people running the religion in his name steeped in corruption of all sorts. He decided it was time to visit the world again and show it the way. So he took form as an ordinary peasant and went to a woodcutter working in a jungle close to a village.

            "I am the saviour you appeal to in your place of worship. I have come to guide you again. Take me to your village," the messiah told the villager.

            The villager sized up the stranger in common clothes and thought, "He sure looks benign. But he must be crazy to call himself my saviour, The Saviour." He told the messiah, "Look here, I am not sure about these things. It is the village preacher who is an expert in these matters. If he designates you as our saviour, we will accept you as one."

            "But it is me whom the preacher professes to follow," the messiah said.

            "I don't know about that, but it is the preacher who decides these matters for us. We just do what he says in matters of faith."

            So the villager took the messiah to the preacher and after one look at him, the preacher asked the villager to summon everyone in the village to the place of worship. When the villagers had assembled, the preacher pointed to the messiah and told everyone, "See, this man says he is our saviour. I tell you, with my hand on the sacred book of the real saviour, that this man is a crook and a cheat. He is out to mislead you. He will be imprisoned immediately. Nobody needs to think about him anymore. Beware of frauds who proclaim to be saviours. Go back and earn your honest bread. And keep coming here with your donations for the cause of God and his people."

            The villagers dispersed and the messiah was put in a dungeon. Work went on as usual the whole day. Around midnight, the preacher went to the messiah in the dungeon and fell at his feet.

            "Oh holy Lord," the preacher said. "I recognised you the moment I saw you. But if you come again amidst us, our game will be over. Who will listen to us once you are here? I plead you, forgive us our sins and go back to your heaven so that we can carry on our business here."

            And the messiah left for heaven.

            I wonder if Mahatma Gandhi would also receive the fate of the messiah if he came to the world again to serve and guide it. Aren't there enough good people around who are hustled, jeered and pinned into helpless corners where they can't do anything? Wasn't a distressed Gandhiji himself pushed into singing Tagore's "Jodi tor dak shune keu na ase tobe ekla cholo re" (If they answer not to your call, walk alone.) while pacifying the raging fires that accompanied Partition? The games of power that began once a free India started looking like a reality relegated him to a distant background even in his lifetime.

            It is as if great men come with a mission and once their job is done, they become irrelevant for all practical purposes. But their name has immense appeal and it is common to raise institutions in their name that often stray into all kinds of misconduct but bear the stamp of probity and dignity because they profess to function with the sanction of a sanctified individual. It is like lying right, left and centre after placing a hand on the Gita and pledging to speak only the truth in a court of law.

            Official India routinely invokes the Mahatma in letter by having his garlanded pictures on walls, his quotes in huge fonts on tables, his life-size statues at public places, his name for important roads, welfare schemes and institutions and, of course, his birthday as a dry day. But Gandhiji in letter, in form, in figure fell years ago to bullets. His spirit has the promise to abide because the values he lived and died for are infallible.

            Gandhiji does not look relevant today because principles such as truth and non-violence which were a way of life for him do not seem very pragmatic or worthwhile today to common people. That would have been the case for many followers of Gandhiji even when he was alive if he had not proved his ideals to be immensely effective by practising them judiciously and sincerely. The genius and greatness of Gandhiji was that he showed how noble principles that look other-worldly, impractical and impossible to live by to common people can be made potent, accessible and workable remedies for worldly problems. With wisdom and insight, Gandhiji turned lofty principles into useful everyday instruments of common life.

            Today's world is entirely different from the one in which Gandhiji lived. Values that marked his life and work may still be relevant, but it is for today's world to interpret and apply them in ways that address today's context and issues. Universal and timeless values such as truth and non-violence need to be modified to deal with the specific realities of different times and places. They also undergo subjective interpretations. Truth, the cornerstone of Gandhiji's life, is by nature unassailable and unavoidable. India's tryst with destiny will finally have to be a tryst with truth. And today's world will have to conduct its own experiments with truth. That, essentially, is what being Gandhian is all about.