Monday, December 12, 2011

from the Crow's Nest ...


Rear-view Mirror - 2011

“Mi Anna Hazare Boltaye” or “Me Anna Hazare Speaking”

“The middle-class rises” or “the middle-class leaves PM” – the headlines since April 2011 read somewhat like that.
The headlines hovered round somewhere around the above quoted lines.
They still are.

The point is how does one assess the claim?

First, the middle class is not about the few chosen ones who were at Ramlila Maidan. Nor they were the ones who are on a symbolic fast in front of the camera. They were not either who had printed “I Support Anna” flexes and did candle-light vigils. Soft patriotism and foolish jingoistic war-cry are not the order of the day.

The middle class is still the one who jostle for a foothold in the bus. They still negotiate Rs. 10/- in a shop. They still hate going to the local bazaar because of inflation. Son’s school fees still give them high BPS. Insomnia. Hyper-tension. Bring it on.
The middle class is being given the illusionary-mislead that the salvage of the black money is the key to all the problems. And while the middle-class is being mislead, fellow Indians are still lying on the ground, clutching on to their farm-lands, waiting for the bulldozers to crush them.
This is the same time when the police are firing in another end of the country for another piece of land.
A chunk from the same middle-class.

And while we are fighting corruption in high spirits, we will come back home and beat our wives to pulps for a salty sambhar.
We will not let out our homes to single mothers or divorcees or widows or a young couple.
We will discuss “Anna” while sipping Green Tea.
We will nod our head in unison over a glass of red-wine and discuss how our country is rotting from within due to corruption.
While Anna fasts on the dais, people flock around the free-food stall. While Anna poses inside the Tihar Jail, the Tihar Jail canteen gets emptied up.
A chunk from the same middle-class.

And the same political drama unfolds in the background - the Congress through its colonialist, feudalistic, hereditary techniques, allowed Rahul and Priyanka to decide on the JanLokpal bill. That makes it Rahul vs. India or “the next PM thinks...” kind of a scenario.
Brand Rahul gets yet another launch-pad.
And AD 2011, we got Brand Anna. Gandhi reincarnated. The toothless smile. The Gandhi topi. The background flex. The white attire. His armour flawless. The middle-class, always hungry for an icon, laps him up.
And another woman has been on a fast since the last decade. No candle-light vigil or hunger-strike or media-frenzy has been there. Because of a stupid reason. AFSPA.
Another man dies of fast. Because of a stupid reason. A polluted Ganga.
RTI activists keep receiving bullets as an answer to their letters.
The market sees no brand here. No business here. No media thus.

And we have the hype around the issue. Clear winner. Sanjay Leela Bhansali promotes “My Friend Pinto” at Ramlila Maidan. A man fasts in Vadodara. A man fasts in Howrah. And media-frenzy reaches inexplicable heights.

 “Anna Diaries” in newspapers. "Anna-using-I-Pad”. “Anna-fart-has-no-smell”. The long-shot of Indian flags being waved. The close-up of a dreamy-eyed kid. All the hypes. All the mechanisms at work. The blatant media-tricks to sell every bit of the septuagenarian.

This is no awakening. Ramlila Maidan is no Tiananmen Square. Not even a Tahrir Square. The land-mafias are still at ease. The coal mafias are at large. Goa, Orissa, HP, Noida, Gurgaon, West Bengal, Seven-Sisters ... every individual is looking down the barrel of a gun with no land beneath their feet.

The clever manipulation of a Gandhian aura. The slow build-up to a joyous climax. The illusion of a victory-of-the-middle-class.

And I open the newspaper to an advertisement stating “Farmer’s pride. India’s pride. Bollguard-II” by “Mahyco Monsanto”.

Jai Hind !!


(Rear-view Mirror - 2011 looks back on the year 2011 as it is passing by. We look back on events that shook us. We take you through the lanes and by-lanes of our minds. Hope you enjoy the ride.)

Saturday, December 10, 2011

from the Crow's Nest ...

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond ....
 
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
 
                  ---- E.E.Cummings