Well, at the outset, I’m at quite a loss. Not because
whatever happened in Delhi has not happened before, though the brutality of the
act is quite reportedly unprecedented, but because of what happened in the
aftermath. I wasn’t there when the lathicharge was happening, I was walking my
dog in a posh colony somewhere, and being the totally non concerned citizen
that I am, I have no proclivities towards staying abreast of whatever goes on
in the city via newspapers and news channels. I stay preoccupied with my car,
my motorcycle, issues at work and whichever woman I may be in love with at any
given time and finding and improvising on ways and means to woo her.
That being said, I was having dinner with my folks and they’re
slightly addicted to NDTV 24x7. And I saw. I saw a woman in an orange suit
being hit thrice in the stomach by some four helmeted, bullet proofed, and
rather well geared policemen, Delhi’s finest, the elite, crème de la crème, so
to speak. The woman got up, doubled up, fell down again and crawled to the side
of the pavement. After which, I, being the responsible citizen that I am,
tweeted and facebooked my resentment, replete with the hashtags, mind you. As I then
proceeded to take more gravy and satiate my gluttonous and rather ravenous
appetite, I received a call from my reporter friend about another reporter that
I know who lost a chunk of flesh, as a tear gas canister exploded near her
feet. I got another update on twitter about it being on you tube and checked
out the link. I saw the shell land at her feet and the camera going haywire and
the resulting chaos. Its probably something that is extremely common in war
reporting, and maybe even better delivered by Hollywood, if you remember the Ironman flick.
But this was someone I knew. The TV then
went on to get Renuka Choudhary’s comments on the same. I believed that the
woman, being a woman, would maybe sensitize the issue a bit and reach out, or moreover, being a ruling party member of Parliament, would
play it sly and try to pacify the viewers, if nothing, then for preserving the
votebank. But no, the level of brashness
in today’s political circles is such that she said, and I quote, “Arre baba ‘we’
also want the security of ‘you people’only”. The demarcation was pretty clear,
though Barkha Dutt refused to pick on it.
And that, I think, was it. I do not know how to term it, I
did not get a mini gun and tear down Congress headquarters. I did what I could.
I went to India Gate. The crowds had dwindled. But they were still there. And
that, really was not how I remembered India Gate. There were shoes, not in
pairs, but single shoes strewn about, scarves, shawls, blood smudged pavements
and asphalt. There was an elderly gentleman who was looking for his left shoe
since the afternoon stampede. One from a bunch of pretty battered first year
kids had given him his bright red Converse chappals, and held the man’s
surviving shoe as he skipped around in damp and dirty socks, regaled by a bunch
of ‘awww’ing girls. It felt good to be around them. I met another kid, who was
shaking inconsolably in front of a camera with a lacerated arm repeating just
one question, why did they hit us. Some guy with a camera produced a flask of
water which I passed to the shaken and stirred boy. I saw a warzone in Lutyens.
And they were still sitting there, with their placards and candles. Still not
retorting but with a resilience that people with rage issues like me cannot
comprehend. I stayed there for another hour, trying to do my bit, desperately
trying to understand where these kids muster the reserve, not to take the
beating, but to still stand there and not retaliate. A force that actually
could not be swayed.
I do not know what the outcome of this conflict will be. I’m
quite assured that this bunch of ragtag kids cannot bring this Government down,
and I also know that even if it were possible, we are in stark need of a
currently absent political alternative. And I also know that what these kids
need, what we all need is for us to switch off those flatscreens and land up in
the trenches with them. For, as has been specified by the Government today, it
is about taking sides.
And I’m definitely going. Not with candles or placards. Not
with baseball bats either. Because their resolve, even if puerile, needs to be
encouraged. Even if it means just helping an old man find his missing shoe.
Oh, and if you’re reading this, 'we' could use some company.
