COVERING protests is elementary journalism. But when
the protests are made for the camera the reporter can take a back seat and
observe instead. This one is about the barricaded stretch between Ashoka Road
and Parliament Street that acts as the pulse of nation’s ailments. And fanciful
solutions too.
On any good day Jantar Mantar provides a patchwork quilt of subaltern sub-nationalisms. From tribals of Narmada valley to a rape victim from Punjab; from veterans unhappy with pensions to left-liberals questioning Army’s copyright on patriotism. Anger and accommodation go together.
In a corner a man sits spinning Charkha in just the padmasana pose Bapu would have, selling books on Gandhi thought, lamenting how the Mahatma has gone from our lives. Bang opposite him a group of white robed men carry out a Havan for a contemporary Bapu – Asaram – praying for his acquittal in a rape case.
Then there is the curious case of Professor Bhim Singh, self styled supremo of J&K based Panthers Party. He wants complete integration of the State with India, but protests here for a more mundane stuff. He wants his MP’s flat at VP House – taken away by the Modi government as he is no more an MP – back, so that he can continue his struggle against the infiltrators in Kashmir from Rafi Marg!
But then things get more curious. There is a protest by the All India Guard’s Council against injustice to them in the seventh pay commission award. Yogi Adityanath is the chief guest. Pray, what on earth is the connection of the firebrand BJP MP from Gorakhpur with those guarding rear of trains in India? That too against his own government? To paraphrase Deng Xiaoping, it does not matter what color the cat is so long as it catches votes.
A group of students affiliated to Congress want Parliament to enact a law in memory of Rohith Vemula. An association for paramilitary forces wants a law removed that disfavors their pensions. A famished woman in tatters comes to me and wants to know which channel I am from. In good English with a southern accent. Am told she is a former nurse who lost the narrative of her life under the crush of circumstances and can now be seen giving stump speeches to whoever cares to listen on all ailments India has, and their solutions.
And just in case one thought that the protests confirm to prevailing ideological cleavage, there comes a group of Hindu Sena complete with saffron scarves shouting “Rajnath Singh Hosh Mein Aayo.” If for a day the wishes of all those sloganeering Halla-Bol and Goli-Maro were granted, half the cabinet of the country would have to be shot dead, as also scores of bureaucrats, cops, judges, politicians, industrialists, and businessmen. Revolution would have arrived.
In the Book of Genesis of the Old Testament there is the story of Tower of Babel. In it, a united humanity, speaking the same language, decides to build a tower that would touch the heaven. The act of defiance and enterprise is clearly not liked by a concerned God, who confounds their speech, confuses them, and scatters them around the world.
Perhaps an ingenuous Raisina God took reverse inspiration from the story and created a Tower of Babel at the Jantar Mantar, to act as a safety valve for all angst that the nation generates daily. In the bargain keeping the heat from reaching the Hill, where mandarins can keep their cool while fixing India’s tryst with destiny. For better or worse can be dealt separately.
Meanwhile, in the mêlée I spot a young capitalist boy hawking tea. He has improvised by bringing in green tea in the bucket, spotting business opportunity in the English-speaking health-conscious segment of the protesters. I would wager that ten years down the line he would have more freedom in his life than the Bolshie boy shouting Le Ke Rahenge Azadi.
On any good day Jantar Mantar provides a patchwork quilt of subaltern sub-nationalisms. From tribals of Narmada valley to a rape victim from Punjab; from veterans unhappy with pensions to left-liberals questioning Army’s copyright on patriotism. Anger and accommodation go together.
In a corner a man sits spinning Charkha in just the padmasana pose Bapu would have, selling books on Gandhi thought, lamenting how the Mahatma has gone from our lives. Bang opposite him a group of white robed men carry out a Havan for a contemporary Bapu – Asaram – praying for his acquittal in a rape case.
Then there is the curious case of Professor Bhim Singh, self styled supremo of J&K based Panthers Party. He wants complete integration of the State with India, but protests here for a more mundane stuff. He wants his MP’s flat at VP House – taken away by the Modi government as he is no more an MP – back, so that he can continue his struggle against the infiltrators in Kashmir from Rafi Marg!
But then things get more curious. There is a protest by the All India Guard’s Council against injustice to them in the seventh pay commission award. Yogi Adityanath is the chief guest. Pray, what on earth is the connection of the firebrand BJP MP from Gorakhpur with those guarding rear of trains in India? That too against his own government? To paraphrase Deng Xiaoping, it does not matter what color the cat is so long as it catches votes.
A group of students affiliated to Congress want Parliament to enact a law in memory of Rohith Vemula. An association for paramilitary forces wants a law removed that disfavors their pensions. A famished woman in tatters comes to me and wants to know which channel I am from. In good English with a southern accent. Am told she is a former nurse who lost the narrative of her life under the crush of circumstances and can now be seen giving stump speeches to whoever cares to listen on all ailments India has, and their solutions.
And just in case one thought that the protests confirm to prevailing ideological cleavage, there comes a group of Hindu Sena complete with saffron scarves shouting “Rajnath Singh Hosh Mein Aayo.” If for a day the wishes of all those sloganeering Halla-Bol and Goli-Maro were granted, half the cabinet of the country would have to be shot dead, as also scores of bureaucrats, cops, judges, politicians, industrialists, and businessmen. Revolution would have arrived.
In the Book of Genesis of the Old Testament there is the story of Tower of Babel. In it, a united humanity, speaking the same language, decides to build a tower that would touch the heaven. The act of defiance and enterprise is clearly not liked by a concerned God, who confounds their speech, confuses them, and scatters them around the world.
Perhaps an ingenuous Raisina God took reverse inspiration from the story and created a Tower of Babel at the Jantar Mantar, to act as a safety valve for all angst that the nation generates daily. In the bargain keeping the heat from reaching the Hill, where mandarins can keep their cool while fixing India’s tryst with destiny. For better or worse can be dealt separately.
Meanwhile, in the mêlée I spot a young capitalist boy hawking tea. He has improvised by bringing in green tea in the bucket, spotting business opportunity in the English-speaking health-conscious segment of the protesters. I would wager that ten years down the line he would have more freedom in his life than the Bolshie boy shouting Le Ke Rahenge Azadi.
No comments:
Post a Comment